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Chapter 27: Snowmoon


Chapter 27: Snowmoon


CONTENT WARNING: References to Sexual Assault​

"^I wouldn't have thought you would grow even more insolent towards your mother... Snowmoon.^"

Despite standing a few feet away, Sue felt Solstice shudder at the stranger's words, adding even more confusion to her increasingly terrified mind. The Mayor's reaction didn't settle there, though, overcoming fear and blossoming into fierce determination, underlined with cold resentment. If nothing else, it let Sue know her mentor had things under control.

Unfortunately, the younger Forest Guardian's certainty didn't extend to the little ones around her.

Comet couldn't resist contracting the surrounding fear, absorbing emotions like a sponge until they filled his tiny body to the point of tears. He didn't cry, instead only following Twinkle's steps and clinging even closer to their guardian. Behind Sue, Joy wasn't as terrified, but she more than made up for that in restless anxiety. She took a moment to remember which of her tall friend's legs had been injured recently before clinging to the other one, only braving brief glimpses at the stranger from behind her dress.

"^Leave, Solanum, and take your hatred elsewhere!^" Solstice boomed, trying to keep the children out of the conversation. Sue wasn't sure why she'd responded to a different name or who said 'Solanum' was, but whatever the exact relationship between the two Forest Guardians was, it was drenched in grudges and misery, intense enough to turn onlookers' heads.

To the regret of everyone who recognized her, Solanum only scoffed at the Mayor's words. "^Your delusional fantasies might have already swallowed you whole, Snowmoon, but I will not let my grandson be bathed in the same heresy that had claimed Aurora—^"

It was only then that she had properly noticed the third Forest Guardian on the scene, and everyone's hearts skipped a beat.

Freezing fear gripped Sue's body as Solanum's gaze drilled into her. The dispassionate mockery in the other Forest Guardian's expression first turned into genuine shock, and then gradual anger as she put the pieces together. Before the once-human could even react, she felt her mind be forcefully pried open as if it were a tin can, its contents spilling out to anyone who bothered looking. Her thoughts, desires, fears, and secrets, taken by force and examined by a hateful eye to the backdrop of Comet's alarmed cries, the sensation painful and overwhelming enough to almost make Sue collapse there and then—

Only to feel Solstice's mental grip embrace her as it cut the mental assault off, leaving her lightheaded and unsure of what the hateful intruder had seen. Whatever it was, though, it only made Solanum scoff harder. "^No, not her...^" she whispered, her words cutting into Sue's and Solstice's psyches alike. "^A stray mutt, bereft of the Pale Lady's blessings, yet wearing our symbols on her flesh.^"

The words were enough to compel the Mayor to take another step forward, her voice equal parts biting and trying to hide a building panic. "^She has no part in this, Solanum.^"

"^And yet, she is holding my family in her arms,^" Solanum muttered in return, eyes narrowing on Sue. "^You being a fool does not surprise me, Snowmoon, but to let someone like this look after your offspring... You have already learned the consequences of opposing the Pale Lady's will once, and yet you can't resist begging for it to happen again.^"

Solstice's buttons were thoroughly pressed, burning her cold resentment into an ever more intense, yet constantly silent anger. Her arms clenched, her body shook, her soul grappled with itself to hide her greatest insecurities from being struck so offhandedly once more. Sue could only keep inching backwards, only pushing past her 'freeze' reaction one tiny step at a time. As her body barely made any progress, her mind couldn't help but wonder—was Solanum really insinuating what Sue thought she was?

Was she threatening Solstice and Moonview as a whole with the plague?

The Mayor wasn't deaf to Sue's rumination; hearing her own fears being stated so plainly undermined her confidence. And yet, she persevered—this wasn't her first time dealing with this particular unwelcome guest. Before she could mount a response or Sue's panicky mind could force her legs to run, though, they and all onlookers saw someone turn the corner from behind Solanum. Someone whose appearance the younger Forest Guardian most definitely did not recognize.

Their humanoid build was much bulkier than her own or Sundance's, without crossing into Willow's kind of chubby. They were the most human-like out of any locals Sue had seen yet, but the general build was mostly where the similarities ended. Their short coat was vibrant yellow, gleaming in the sunlight and making it rather difficult to look at them. A thick white mane surrounded their neck, looking as plush as it did feral—and so did the pointed, triangular ears. Tiny eyes and massive nose completed what Sue could make of their head, making them look old, especially in tandem with a slightly hunched posture.

A brief glint of something metallic wrapped around their arm snagged Sue's attention and wouldn't let go. At least, not until she noticed the yellow stranger's attention being similarly enraptured with her, if briefly. They physically reeled back at the sight, only regaining composure after Solanum glanced at them from the corner of her eye and shook her head.

Solstice speaking up once more cut off any further examination of the newcomer. "^If you think I will let your fanaticism hurt anyone here again, Solanum, you are sorely mistaken.^" She then turned to face the newcomer as they took a stand beside Solanum. Her expression and mind alike jumped haphazardly between regret, sadness, and hope, before once more returning to her anger-hardened determination.

Hardened further mere moments later.

"^Snowmoon, dear,^" the newcomer psychically spoke, his voice soft and weathered, "^you have maintained this insane facade for so very long. Does your heart not ache to return home? To atone for your transgressions before the Pale Lady, to restore your honor in her eyes?^"

Home?

It was only then that all the pieces fell into place for Sue, leaving her gasping quietly under her breath as her mentor flinched. Flinched, and narrowed her eyes at the yellow psychic, her mental voice sharpened by hurt. "^I am home, Luneth. And you are trespassing.^"

The words were what the onlookers needed to turn lively, either approaching the newcomers or backing off from the scene entirely. It was enough for Solstice to drop her fierce mask for but an instant, to finally address Sue once more—and hurry her away. "^Sue, to Sundance's den, please.^"

To their shared relief, the nudge was just what the younger Forest Guardian needed. She backed off a step, and another, before finally breaking into the fastest jog she could manage with full arms and an even fuller mind, stumbling through the side streets while Joy dashed behind her, crying out as she tried to keep up. The words exchanged moments prior echoed through her mind, growing ever more deafening with each repetition, bringing forth not just idle disagreements but active threats if she'd understood them right.

Have they really threatened us all? Is this a prelude to an all-out attack?

Any worries Sue once had about the Forest Guardians' destructive capabilities came back in full force, the effortlessness with which Solanum had forced her way into her thoughts nauseating in hindsight. Sue was used to Solstice and Sundance overhearing bits and pieces of what was going on in there now and again, but this was different; this was malicious, almost intense enough to leave her on the ground—and it wasn't even anything physical! Solstice could lift her entire body up with ease; who says that someone stronger than that couldn't tear her apart with sheer force on a whim? Or scorch her with the fire magic her mentor had shown bits of in the past, or kill her in any other of the uncountable ways this terrible world was capable of—

"S-Sue!" a dry, shrill scream rang out from behind her, stopping her mid-step.

Her heart skipped a beat as she turned around, watching as Joy finally caught up to her on the verge of tears, immediately clinging to her leg. She wanted to do something to comfort her, anything, but between her own fear and the urgency in Solstice's command, she wasn't sure what she even could do.

Pushing her already overworked mind further, she haphazardly linked it with the metal girl, whispering as she kept her voice as calm as she could. "I'm here Joy, I'm here. I'm sorry for running, but—but we need to keep moving. Sundance's house isn't far, and once we're there, we can rest, but now we need to walk some more, okay?" Worries swirled in her head, about what the little one would think of her, whether that remark would cause any further panic in itself and how she'd even deal with it if it had. But, for once, her worries were unfounded.

Joy nodded shakily as she let go of Sue's leg, fidgeting hands holding each other with her guardian's out of range. She was still scared, but Sue was clear—they had to keep going. "Thank you, Joy. I love you," Sue whispered, sharing relief with the little one in response to those three oh-so-important words.

As she picked herself up, she gently placed a hand on Twinkle's disguise to check how they were doing. They felt rattled and withdrawn, only daring to extend a single tiny tendril to hold her and pulling it back immediately once she took her touch away. Comet kept clinging tight to her shoulder, nervously looking around to try to spot the threat everyone else was so afraid of.

Motivated to get the little ones to safety, Sue looked skyward, scanning what she could make out of the neighboring skyline in search of the vixen's den. It wasn't in sight yet, but a few structures within sight of it were, and that's where Sue's attention was focused. Before long, she was walking steadily again, with Joy keeping up beside her and putting on the bravest expression she could manage in all her fear.

Her mind was about to return to its earlier pondering, to imagining everything terrible the strangers' arrival could foretell—but it wouldn't get to do that. Right as her heart began to calm down, it was kicked into a higher gear again as an obstacle appeared before her in time it took her to blink, right as she was about to turn the corner.

The dark green limb was shaped like an arc, with a point on one end and a distressingly familiar three fingered hand on the other. Whether its outer edge was sharp, Sue neither knew nor ever wanted to find out, especially with it sticking horizontally in the air at her neck level, the pointed end striking the nearby bricked wall hard enough to leave cracks.

And even more so with the rest of the person revealing themselves soon after.

Sue took a half step back as they followed their arm around the corner, their slow, nonchalant movements giving her the terrifying feeling they'd been waiting for her. They easily had a foot on her, and that didn't even include the gray protrusion at the top of their head—their Forest Guardian head. However used to her kin's red eyes Sue might've been, the stranger's glare rekindled all her earlier fears and more.

Neither their different, bulkier build, nor the different hue of their skin even registered in Sue's mind—their dimly glowing blue tattoos and crimson eyes captured her attention whole, filling her with more and more terror. Their focused expression turned into a sinister, gleeful smile as they took her in, leering at her as if she was a juicy piece of meat on display. Terrifying as that was, though, it soon turned into something else, something worse—disgust.

"^I have no idea who you are,^" they began, their low, gruff voice dripping with contempt, "^but you best have a reason to be touching my nephew.^" Their grimace only deepened as they examined her tattoo-less body, her discolored hair, the patterns carved into the pleats of her dress, her psychic ineptitude.

The Limb Eater behind her.

"^Especially with that filthy beast behind you.^"

Sue gasped as she suddenly felt her head be grasped strongly enough to leave her with a headache. The sound didn't even register to her, though, not with Joy's pained cry occupying every fiber of her being. She wanted to act, to do something except inch backwards away from the stranger, to repel the threat. But she couldn't.

She pried her eyes away from the encroaching threat for but a moment, trying to make sure the metal girl was okay—and found her grasping her front head with her tiny arms, tears running down her face as she shook in place; the dandelion once tied into her curl laying torn to shreds beside her.

A low, amused chuckle tore her eyes away from the little one—and brought her face to face with the tall stranger, now so close to her the tips of their red horns were almost touching. They—he—continued, expression shifting to grim amusement at seeing Sue's terror, "^Someone like you has no business touching a blessed child. The Pale Lady would be reviled to hear that.^"

Sue's and Joy's mental anguish continued as Comet cried out, inadvertently feeling his friends' pain. The stranger only shot him the briefest flash of disgust before he grew quiet, little body shaking as he clung to Sue. "^But, who knows, maybe there's hope for you if you just give him up and let me claim you, you filth,^" he threatened, despair blossoming in Sue's body in response. She could barely breathe at the nauseating undertones in his words, trying desperately to come up with words only to be unable to.

He slowly reached his hand towards her face, as if to cup her chin, "^So, what do you say? The Pale Lady always welcomes more offspring to bless—^"

*crACK!*

The sudden sound, paired with the stranger's gasp of pain, broke through Sue's stasis. She skittered back, half kneeling and half collapsing on the trodden path as she pulled Joy in close, the psychic headache finally fading for both of them. With Joy in her arms, Sue finally looked up to see what had happened—and saw Lilly reeling back her leg; the stranger's knee now twisted at an unnatural angle.

With a quick dash, the dancer slid in between Sue and her attacker, arms raised up in a guard as she whistled loudly. Her stance was steadfast, but even it began to shake once the stranger recovered from and processed her strike; earlier disgusting flirting replaced with seething fury. Sue saw Lilly slightly bow her head as it shook, almost as if it was being forcibly moved, her whistles not letting any pain through.

The stranger shouted, "^How DARE YOU lay a hand on the Pale Lady's chosen, you reta—^"

"^Nightbane.^"

Solstice's voice froze everyone on the scene as she walked past Sue, leaving the younger Forest Guardian and her friend sighing in relief. Sue wasn't sure if the earlier situation had grown even worse or if it was because of the now-named Nightbane, but her mentor's fierce resentment had become something else, molten into a raging fury so vibrant she was only barely stopping herself from lashing out with utmost force.

It might've been only barely, but Solstice was still stopping herself—and Nightbane knew that. "^Well well well, look who finally decided to greet her brother,^" he taunted, slowly talking backwards as he stared smugly at her. "^Perhaps I really shouldn't have expected any better than thrusting your own children to a pit for a Limb Eater to dine on! Maybe expecting anything from you, Snowmoon, was just me being foolish~.^"

"^Begone,^" the Mayor boomed, fierce enough to send chills through even Sue despite the words having been aimed away from her.

And Nightbane felt them too, his composed facade fading for a moment to reveal genuine worry—though it didn't last long. "^You'll regret this, Snowmoon~.^" Without skipping a beat, he backed off behind the corner he'd originally crept out of before breaking into a limping run, leaving everyone else staring in shock at the spot he'd been in moments before.

It was only after a minute or so, long after neither Sue nor Solstice could sense him anymore, did anyone dare to move again.

Lilly took the first step, turning on a heel and crouching beside Sue, pulling her and all the children she was trying to comfort into as gentle an embrace as she could. Solstice followed suit shortly after, shivering as she assessed the situation—and focused on Joy, the little one still whimpering quietly. She gave the metal girl space, sitting down beside Sue before slowly reaching a hand towards Joy as her psychics carefully pulled Comet out of Sue's hold. With her child in her arms, she properly linked everyone gathered, including one little one off to the side that was only now catching up with her big sister, and focused to soothe any pains they all might've been feeling.

Joy panted deeply as the last of her psychic headache was dispelled. She clung to Sue, confused and scared. Twinkle also felt better, but that was more so because of all the chaos and noises finally easing out, letting them finally dare reach out a single tendril and wrap it around as much of Sue and Joy as they could manage. Comet received the tightest hug Solstice was capable of; any of Nightbane's stray mental influence washing off into quiet tears as wordless reassurance flowed freely from his mom.

For a few moments, the scene remained quiet, passersby aside, with Lilly and Solstice waiting until they were sure Sue and the little ones were alright. It was the younger Forest Guardian that finally broke that silence, tears streaking down her face as she held Joy tight, whispering, "Y-you're beautiful, Joy, y-you're not a—not filth, I-I promise..."

Sue wanted to scream at what she'd just been subjected to, at the unspeakable fear that she was about to become a statistic—but Joy took priority, now and always. The little one took her time calming down, with each repetition of her guardian's words, each gentle touch undoing a little bit of her earlier terror. Alas, she would never be granted full release from it; she would never be allowed to forget this—but at least this way it wouldn't haunt her every night for months at a time.

At least, so Sue hoped.

She wanted to do more, to promise Joy that nobody would hurt her as long as she was around—but she couldn't. After all, she had already lied like that to her at least once. Reality just stepped in and proved how little she could really do to stop harm from coming to those she loved; why would she lie like that again?

She didn't look up as she felt someone else join their little huddled group, their aura not entirely alien to her, but hardly one she knew well. It was only when the tiny newcomer whistled, "What happened?" did she finally look up at them—at her, recognizing the little plant bud child from around the place.

Didn't realize how similar she and Lilly look, at least face-wise.

Petal's question helped break the shell-shocked stasis the group was in as Lilly took her into her arms, shaking her head. "Not know, Petal. Bad person, mean and want attack Sue—and know Solstice," Lilly realized, perking up as she looked at the Mayor. Emotions stirred in her at the realization, everything from anger at Sue and the little ones having been mistreated like that, to despair at her having only barely managed to do anything, to fear at it all possibly happening again.

Lilly needed answers, and Solstice had them. "Who that was, Solstice!?" she asked, raising her voice more than intended and regretting it immediately afterwards.

The Mayor flinched at the hostile—but not wholly unearned—tone. She didn't want to talk about this; she didn't even want to think about any of what had just happened—but Lilly deserved to know. Sue deserved to know, to be aware of just how rotten the tree that had borne her mentor was. "That," Solstice began, out of breath, "...that was my family. My mother and father earlier at the clearing, and—and now, my b-brother," she explained, only barely keeping herself from letting fury consume her again.

The leafy dancer and child both gasped in unison at the revelation, Joy whimpered quietly, and Sue... softly nodded. The pieces haven't been exactly difficult to piece together, even if it took her mentor's clarification to fill in some of the remaining holes. In hindsight, with what Solstice and Sundance had told her, she wasn't surprised for them to have acted the way they had—at least, not on a detached, logical level.

On an emotional level, on a level where she had a hard time imagining how people like that existed despite rationally knowing they did, she was shrieking in confused pain. Not wanting to dwell on either that or her own powerlessness, she forcibly shook her head, redirecting her thoughts to a more productive territory. "Wh-why was he—why were they here?" Sue asked, her warbling voice making both Lilly and Solstice slide closer.

To their shared chagrin, her mentor didn't have anywhere near as much an answer as she wanted to. "I don't know what or who compelled them to show up right now, with everything else going on, but it seems they want the same thing as always," she explained, wincing at recalling their previous visits. "They've been trying to pressure me to come back to my tribe, or to at least 'give back' my children for as long as I've been here."

That much made sense with what Sue had seen so far, but one part of Solstice's explanation stood out to her, immediately inviting further worry. "W-wait, they've been here before?" she asked, aghast.

Solstice silently nodded. "Yes. I've lost count of how many times they have taunted me like this, how many times they've shown up demanding I give in to their ways. Has to be close to a dozen by now. I thought that after they showed up last time, a few months after—after the plague struck, they would finally decide to leave me alone. But... they seemed to be aware of Comet. I've no idea who or what clued them in, but if I get my hands on them, I'll—no, no, I—I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she lied.

It was Sue's turn to administer much-needed comfort. She laid her free hand on her mentor's shoulder, giving her as confident a smile as she could manage. "I-I'd say your anger is more than understandable, Solstice."

"Lilly always told me to be open with feelings!" Petal added, her words sounding like an even higher-pitched version of Lilly.

"Very, yes!" Lilly assured.

The Mayor slowly nodded as she took the reassurance in, culminating with a weak sigh. She wanted to be better than this, to not descend to her family's level, but that was always easier said than done. "I suppose," she offhandedly replied, changing the subject. "At least one comfort in all this is that they've never accomplished anything more than sowing doubt here and there. I doubt that'll change, especially after what you've accomplished yesterday, Sue, but I'm... I'm still a bit worried."

Warmth filled Sue at her mentor's comment; the resulting moment of brief bliss transferred to the little ones in her arms with as gentle a touch as she could manage. To be commended on something like that felt good on its own, to have Solstice do that felt—

No. Not the time for that.

"No worry here!" Lilly beamed, scooting up to Sue with Petal in her arms. "They rude and mean, listen nobody."

"I'd like to think that, yes..." Solstice sighed. She opened her mouth, about to continue to finish the thought, before stopping herself and taking a deep breath. Lilly was right—they wouldn't be eliciting any sympathy this time, and a much better choice of action than worrying about 'what ifs' was to ensure that fact with their actions. "You're right, Lilly. Many in Moonview have already seen and had the displeasure of interacting with them in the past, and for those that haven't... I suppose talking to people and giving them a heads-up about my family would help ensure their rhetoric won't get its hooks in people."

The dancer nodded with her entire body. "Like that I," she exclaimed, about to stand up and get to spreading the word before remembering she had a Forest Guardian to comfort. Sue was still clearly rattled after what she'd been through, and Lilly was not under any illusion that a few moments of physical comfort would be enough to wash it all out of her mind, but she still wanted to do what she could, here and for everyone else.

Sue, meanwhile... deeply appreciated Lilly's presence. She leaned on her more and more by the minute, hoping she wouldn't notice. Even beyond Solstice's motherly protection, Lilly's willingness to protect her even while putting herself in danger was comforting. It was something Sue had no wishes of ever being put to the test again, but seeing it be backed with action only blossomed more feelings towards the leafy farmhand inside her.

Lilly did notice Sue leaning on her—basically right away, even—but knew better than to do anything but silently smile at that.

As they all finished getting a grip on themselves, a chirped voice from nearby picked up the discussion. "By Night Mother's feathers, you can count on me too, ma'am Solstice! If that bunch ever try laying a hand on a child again, stars be my witness that mere glaring will be the last thing on my mind!"

Sue might not have recognized the speaker by ear even remotely, but the moment she looked up at the nearby roof, her eyes immediately filled in the villager's identity. The blue cloud bird wasn't someone she had any particular feelings about before yesterday, but after seeing the way they—she looked at her at the playground, she wasn't sure whether she was capable of anything better than slight animosity towards them.

Still, the bird clearly stood by what she'd said, even after noticing Sue and awkwardly looking away from her afterwards, an apologetic expression struggling to find the right words. Solstice noticed the weird atmosphere between Sue and the caretaker, but shook it aside, choosing to thank her instead. "Thank you, Cirrus," she weakly smiled.

"Not a problem, ma'am Solstice! After what that brute had done to poor Joy, my wings are positively itching to dispense a dragon's justice!" Cirrus sang.

As Sue wracked her head, trying to figure out which between the lanky blue bird and a small mobile cloud had anything to do with dragons, her mentor let out a faint chuckle. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I strongly doubt it'll ever be needed. For all their threats, intimidation, and combat prowess, they're much too cowardly to ever openly fight with how badly outnumbered they'd be."

The gathered adults nodded more or less in unison. Sue was the most hesitant, noticing the unspoken 'but' in Solstice's words—a 'but' that then grew in intensity in her mind, bringing with itself fear, and a lot of it. She scooted closer to the Mayor, wanting to reassure her that her logic checked out and that her family was unlikely to take the entirety of Moonview on. And then; she stopped—something was off. This wasn't that kind of fear; this was something deeper, more visceral, less of a conscious worry, and more of a flashback.

Solstice shook as she looked Sue and Lilly straight in the eye, her telepathic voice wavering. "^Wh-whatever you do, do not let Nightbane c-corner you alone. Scream, thrash, fight—don't let him.^"

Of the two, only Sue knew what her mentor might've been implying, blood draining from her face. She wanted to speak up, ask Solstice if she was alright—but her mentor spoke up first, forcibly washing the traumatic subject from her mind as she addressed Cirrus again. "S-still, thank you, Cirrus. I-If possible, talking to people you know and trust would be preferable, just letting them know what—what Nightbane and the rest of my family had done." Without skipping a beat, she then took a deep breath and stood up, gradually calming down as she instructed, "^Let's get going. I doubt sitting here will do us any good, especially since there's an outfit for Twinkle to be made. Eh, Sue?^"

Sue was almost dizzy from following her mentor's turbulent emotions, trying to focus on her suggestion instead. After Nightbane's actions, she didn't want to let go of Joy for preferably the next forever, and neither did the girl want to let go of her with how tired she now was, but her weight, combined with her guardian's weakness, made getting up something of a challenge.

A challenge that Lilly helped them with without skipping a beat, lifting Sue onto her legs before she could even think to ask her. Fluster was the last thing Sue expected to be feeling after what had just happened, but she couldn't deny appreciating that emotional distraction. "Th-thank you, Lilly," she giggled quietly, to the dancer's delight.

"Welcome, you!"

As they got going, an idea struck Sue, one just a few moments too late. She had neither the physical reach nor the mental dexterity to pull it off at the moment, not with both her hands occupied by the metal girl. The older Forest Guardian didn't skip a beat before giving her a psychic hand, swiftly unwrapping the dandelion from her hair before tying it into Joy's, replacing the torn flower. Joy didn't outwardly react to the gesture, and Sue considered asking her to thank Solstice for that, but this wasn't the time for that.

Still—thanks, Solstice.

To Sue's relief and chagrin alike, she wasn't the only one worried about the girl in her arms. Now that the earlier tension had eased out, Twinkle dared reaching out from their hiding spot once more—and extended their affection towards Joy, an inky tentacle gently holding her leg.

With the air temporarily cleared, keeping it free from earlier tension was paramount—and for that, they needed a distraction. "Lilly," Sue spoke up, the leafy dancer slinking up to her side before she could finish taking a breath, "is Petal your sister, or...?"

"Sister, yes!" Petal squeaked, sending Lilly into whistling giggles.

"Are you two from around here?" Sue continued. She wasn't sure which of the answers she was expecting more, but between asking about the place her friend had come from and asking about who in the village she was related to, either answer would've provided more than enough to talk about.

To her surprise, Lilly took a moment to think through her words, the plant bud in her arms looking up at her expectantly. "From far, think I. Not all sure."

That... wasn't an answer Sue was expecting, a tingling in the back of her head making her follow that thread. "Well, what was that place like?"

"Oh, it was a big mountain field!" Petal cut in, her big sister twirling as they both thought back to what they once called home. "Very big and calm, a-and there were many of our kin there! Really safe."

"That sounds quite idyllic," Sue muttered, keeping her reactions low-key enough to not give any hints towards her own secrets. "In that case, why'd you come over here—i-if that's alright for me to ask, of course, you don't have to—"

"Worry not, Sue, can answer!" Lilly reassured, briefly pulling the Forest Guardian into a gentle, one-armed hug. "Can answer, but... not know, think I."

If Lilly's earlier responses had caught Sue's attention, this detail left her staring at the leafy dancer hawk-eyed, trying her hardest to keep her shocked expression to a minimum. "Y-you don't know why you left?" Sue asked, her voice wavering. She caught Solstice looking over from her own mental struggles to pay attention to the discussion taking place, the similarities to Sue's circumstances not lost on the older Forest Guardian.

"Not all know," Lilly clarified. "Other my kin angry, remember I, then me and Petal left. Not remember walk here—Petal very very small, me angry. Anger make bad memory."

And she doesn't remember how she got here either...

Sue wasn't expecting her best lead in the mystery of how she was brought here to be the farmhand her heart was growing closer to by the moment. It was an exciting possibility, but also one that risked putting Lilly off if she were to ask too many, too prying questions—and that's without even considering the risk of revealing her own secrets. With that in mind, Sue went back to an earlier topic, hoping to spot more parallels between herself and her friend. "Y-yeah, it's really not. D-do you think your f-family is worried about you and Petal?"

To Sue's relief, Lilly's reaction was very light-spirited—but also a bit mortifying with how confident her head shaking was. "No, think not! There, no family like here. Many many my kin everywhere in big mountain grassland. Everyone help everyone, everyone care everyone. Who parent who, not know."

...

Well, there goes the possibility of her having once been a human.

"I-I see," Sue pretended, the actual mental image not sitting right in her mind. Some of her confusion was caused by the less-than-precise phrasing on Lilly's end, but even beyond that, trying to imagine what she had described proved challenging. Collectively raising children was one thing, but to the degree that nobody even knew who anyone's parents were just felt... wrong to her human sensibilities. Even with her emotional reaction being as strong as it was, though, she wasn't under any delusions that she was the best judge of how a wholly different, entirely non-human species raised their offspring.

It just felt... odd.

Though, now that she'd thought some more about it—mostly against her will—Sue couldn't help but ask about an earlier detail. "If everyone was helping each other, then why were others of your kin angry at you?"

As unphased as Lilly was about the earlier questions, this one finally touched on something she was much more self-conscious of, an almost imperceptible shudder going through her body. Sue may not have had a hand to spare at the moment, but she did the best thing she could in the heat of the moment, walking up to the dancer and offering her a warm smile. "I promise, you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Can answer," Lilly insisted, straightening her back and scooting closer to the Forest Guardian, her presence helping her regain confidence. "Think just my talking. Not talk good here, not sing good there. Not keep tune anywhere. Not like me others. One day I take Petal and run—think I."

Sue nodded firmly. Guess that explained why Lilly felt so insecure about the way she talked. There were still many question marks in her recollection of the events, many similarities the once-human would love to prod at some other time, but they didn't have the time for that—Sundance's dwelling was finally coming up ahead.

"Ooo, we here!" Lilly cheered—and sighed in disappointment, turning around to face Sue again. "Sorry Sue, need run for duties! Help harvest, gather food for N-new—night town," she elaborated, struggling with the village name until finally admitting verbal defeat.

Any disappointment Sue might've felt at her crush friend taking off was immediately overshadowed by the explanation of what she'd be doing today, though. "W-wait, you'll be gathering crops for Newmoon?"

"Indeed," Solstice answered for Lilly. "If everything goes right, we'll have many carts' worth of supplies for Newmoon by tomorrow morning. Transporting them all there won't be easy, especially with the only path we know of being barely wide enough for one person, but we'll figure something out.

"And I help!" Lilly pridefully added, her chin raised high with her leafy hands on her hips. "Strong, can carry cart!"

"C-can I come too?" Petal chimed in, her quiet squeaks sounding dizzy after being constantly moved between her sister's arms.

Alas, the lil' plant bud's idea was only met with firm shakes of denial. "No Petal, sorry! It long and hard, not with little ones," Lilly explained, defusing her sister's enthusiasm. A few squealing 'pleaseeeee' that followed had no effect, either. This would all be a challenge as is, and having to look out for kids through it all would've made it even harder.

And that wasn't even the only reason.

"I know you want to come along with your sister," Solstice began, giving Petal the warmest smile she could muster after everything they've been through today, "but think of Newmoon in all this. I can only imagine how rattled they'll be just by aid showing up after everything so far, and every person present will only make it all the more overwhelming for them."

That wasn't an angle Sue had considered either, dampening her own hopes of tagging along. Crutch or not, she wasn't a fast walker and barely had enough physical strength to keep carrying Joy in her arms. Any serious help with what sounded like hundreds upon hundreds of pounds' worth of supplies was out of the question.

Solstice had spotted the disappointment in her student's mind, but before she could talk to her about it, Petal finally had a reply to the adults' explanation—a slow, somber nod. "I see... sorry."

"No sorry, Petal! Will tell everything in night town! Now need go, bye Solstice, bye Sue!" Lilly replied, giving the Mayor a brief wave before turning towards Sue, about to sneak in a smooch on her cheek—

Only for the Forest Guardian in question to end up having the same idea. They were locked in a brief but intense kiss before Lilly regretfully dashed back, spinning in place in elation as her cheeks burned bright red. "Eeeeeeee, I-I—bye!" She was gone within moments, booking it behind the nearest corner in blissful fluster; Sue only prevented from following in tow because of the two exhausted children in her arms.

Comet's giggle at the silly emotions in the air helped everyone's psyches, too.

No matter how winding their path here had been, they had arrived at Sundance's dwelling. The stairs leading up to it were just as treacherous as they felt the first time, not inspiring much confidence in Sue after she'd calmed down. Solstice was eager to help, wordlessly embracing Joy and Twinkle in her gentle aura after untying the latter from Sue's chest—only for the former to squirm and whine even as she was about to fall asleep.

They might have gone along with it—or, more likely, not known how to stop it—but Twinkle wasn't a fan of being separated from their guardian, either. They futilely tried to reach towards Sue with their black tentacles, their squeaks quiet and distorted. Aided by Solstice's translation, Sue spoke up, trying to calm them both down. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay. I just need to get up these stairs, and I'll be back with you two again."

Solstice moved Twinkle within the reach of their guardian as they were being comforted, helping motivate them to endure that brief stretch without Sue. Unfortunately, her words weren't as effective with Joy, the metal girl clinging to Sue's shoulder even as she fought on against her tiredness. It was an impasse the younger Forest Guardian didn't mind waiting to resolve itself in theory, but her arms were starting to complain big time.

A sudden buzzing from down the road was the last thing Sue wanted to hear as she wracked her mind about how to calm Joy down, but the identities of the newcomers provided some much-appreciated balm for her strained mind.

Basil was as energetic and upbeat as ever, hovering right before Sue, what was probably buzzed greetings remaining untranslated. Splitleaf wasn't far behind, looking relieved to have found their group, even if the reason wasn't immediately clear. The scene was a bit overwhelming, and Sue could tell Solstice was about to extend her translation to include the two lovable insects—which is why she cut in, shaking her head. "H-hey, wait Solstice, I—I'll handle this. They want to talk to me, right?"

The Mayor blinked, taken aback before slowly nodding. "^Are you sure, Sue?^"

Not really, but I don't want to miss out on the opportunity to practice.

"Y-yeah. Y-you can take Twinkle upstairs, a-and I'll talk to them."

Solstice was unconvinced but didn't try to argue, carefully holding the small ghost as she made it up the stairs and into Sundance's den. If the many woofs filling the air were anything to go by, both foxes were home. The younger Forest Guardian slowly sat down on one of the lower stairs, sitting Joy beside her to free her arms as she prepared for a reprisal of her magic trick.

After double-checking that the metal girl wasn't about to yank on one of her arms and cause a reprisal of her embarrassment from a few days ago, Sue went for it. Her left hand tuned out the surrounding emotions while her right hand repeated its crutch grasp, extending one mental tendril out of her skull at a time and carefully navigating them first to the bee, and then to the mantis.

Judging by the lack of agonized buzzing and anger in her immediate vicinity, it seemed she'd pulled it—

"Sue Sue you okay? Not sleep Sue, mom want fix your horn wound," Basil buzzed, the hum of his wings moving all over the scene before zipping right to her free side.

The Forest Guardian took a deep sigh of relief, opening her eyes to smile at the two bugs, catching Splitleaf rolling her eyes at her son. "She not sleeping, Basil. Doing psychics, my guess. Hello, Sue, can hear us?" the mantis asked, growing palpably relieved at the firm nod that followed. "Good, good. Willow tell me about injury. Sensitive, my bandage better. Can try change?"

Sue only needed a quick glance down at her wounded extremity to realize just how necessary a change of bandages was. The sight had turned from worrisome to unsightly—especially with the chubby medic leaving them untouched yesterday morning. She didn't see any bandages in Splitleaf's possession, but had assumed she was just keeping them hidden somewhere. "S-sure! Thank you for the offer, Splitleaf."

"Problem not," the mantis reassured.

As she unwound the bandages already there, making Sue wince while comforting the girl beside her, Basil took it upon himself to satisfy his curiosity about the big event yesterday. "Sue Sue, what yesterday happen so loud and glowing and you did! Wonder how!"

"Aye. Everyone in hive talk about it at night," Splitleaf followed up.

Sue felt a bit self conscious about being the talk of the town as she desperately tried to gather words. To her chagrin, words kept not coming—because she had no idea what exactly had happened there either.

"Yes yes yes! Look like Night Mother talk you, strong and bright and good good!" the bee geeked out, leaving Sue feeling even more flustered than before.

His mom might've just weakly chuckled at the idea that yesterday's outburst was in any way divinely inspired, but the Forest Guardian herself wasn't sure either way. "Truthfully, I—I don't know," Sue admitted, catching both bugs' attention. "It was a really long time coming either way. If it really was Her, then..." she trailed off, looking up at the barely visible moon in the corner of the daylight sky, "then I want to thank Her for setting things straight again."

"How it feel when shouting and angry and glowing?" Basil asked, swooning at the idea of his silly friend being a vessel for divine will.

"The angriest I've ever been," Sue chuckled, the admission catching the other two aback. "It's like when you get so angry you can't see straight anymore. I was already there, and then I got angrier and angrier, I panicked, and then... that happened, and it was just a blur."

"Guess it only right for Mother to anger sometimes," Splitleaf chuckled before returning to her work. Sue felt that remark well, looking down at Joy and reminiscing about how angry she felt when it looked like that bat kept wanting to make her miserable—

And then; she spotted what the caretaker was actually doing with her horn.

To the best of Sue's tattered knowledge of biology, mantises weren't capable of spinning silk. It was a fact that Splitleaf decided to conveniently ignore, carefully weaving the thick pearly thread around the shallow cut. It didn't feel anywhere near as disgusting as Sue would've thought from the description alone. The silk wasn't putting any additional pressure on the sensitive tissue, either. If it worked, it worked—Sue just hoped it was sterile, though.

...

Pretty please.

"Anger no anger, glad you did, Sue!" Basil buzzed, taking Sue aback with a buzzing embrace and dragging her attention away from the mantis. "Excited tomorrow, help Newmoon help Ginger too! Talk yesterday fun, want more." Before she could respond in kind, though, he was already gone, to her disappointment.

"Ginger good sort, aye," Splitleaf added, effortlessly moving the ever-weaving thread to the bite-sized cuts on her arms each time she had to talk. "Glad have stockpiles important items."

"Yes yes! Tomorrow tomorrow ahhh, excited! Never think I live important times," Basil sighed—and finally spotted the metal girl beside Sue. "Oh, Joy sleep?"

A quick glance confirmed his observation. Joy had indeed dozed off in the meantime, to Sue's relief. She kept her close, nodding softly as she explained, "Yeah. We ran into N—Solstice's family, unfortunately..."

"Solstice family?" Basil tilted his head. "That not good?" he asked, unsure, inferring based on Sue's tone.

"Ugh, them," Splitleaf grumbled, getting up from her finished work. "Nasty. Stay away, Basil—don't want you hurt."

"Wh-why they hurt me?" the bee asked, excitable voice noticeably wavering. His mom sighed in return, about to gather words—

*woof, woof!*

Only for Spark to cut her off, rushing down the stairs—and leaping right into Basil's arms, taking Sue aback. She watched as the two of them exchanged affection to whichever extent their differing anatomies let them, uncertain where it'd come from. She'd seen them be friendly in the past, sure, but this felt like more than just acquaintances.

Splitleaf wasn't blind to her surprise, buzzes sounding like giggles as she explained, "They always play when little," clarifying almost nothing. Sure, Spark wasn't an infant anymore or anything, but she was still firmly a child, whereas Basil had always given off the impression of being an adult. He even had children, for crying out loud. The mantis wasn't done with her explanation yet, though. "Don't look it, almost same age. Basil... one Moon older Spark."

"Two!" the bee cut in as if his honor were on the line.

"One, two, ten, still my baby," the mantis laughed, forcing the most embarrassed buzz out of Basil Sue had heard yet.

It was all immensely amusing, though the Forest Guardian couldn't help but feel a bit bad, still. If Basil was an adult despite being the same age as Spark, didn't that mean his lifespan was much shorter than hers would be? She supposed it made sense; insects weren't known for their long lives, but... she still felt bad about it.

Sure, random chance shaping people's lifespans was just as true in her old world, but there, living into your sixties was a relatively safe bet anywhere, infant mortality aside. How much time did Basil have left if he was already an adult at around five years old? Ten? Fifteen? Nowhere near enough either way.

Though... it certainly wasn't bringing him any despair at the moment, and focusing on the happiness in the scene would only do Sue good, too.

"Basil, gonna go?" the mantis beckoned, prompting her son to place the fiery kit down on solid ground and finally follow her. "Care Sue—please rest, let wound recover, let you recover. Okay?"

Won't hurt to try that, yeah.

"S-sure," Sue nodded, smiling as she watched the bug family head out. With them gone, she finally got her overdue share of affection from the fiery kit, her excited woofs remaining untranslated. After she'd gathered the strength to stand up again with Joy in her arms, Sue finally made it the rest of the way upstairs, her legs definitely appreciating a moment of rest.

Inside, Sundance was laying in the bedding part of her dwelling, rifling through the drawers and boxes in her workshop and psyching out everything that looked like it'd be useful for the crafts project at hand. Fabrics, needles, thread, dyes, oils to impregnate the material with after they were done, and more. As she gathered her supplies, Twinkle and Comet intently observed the spectacle from beside her. The former's spectral limbs were carefully examining the small patches laid out before them to test which of them felt the most comfortable to the touch.

A few feet away, Solstice sat in the chair usually reserved for her friend, calmly enjoying her tea as her mind worked on overdrive, chewing through everything that had happened today and what it could mean. It took until Sue had closed the front door behind herself for the Mayor to finally notice her having caught up, extending the translation to her and giving her a weak smile. "^How's the new bandage feeling?^" she asked telepathically mid-sip.

"As if it's not there at all," Sue remarked, the gentle numbing effect of the silk making the constant aching almost completely ignorable.

Hearing her voice finally stirred Sundance from her impromptu inventory check. The older vixen winced as she looked over her shoulder and shot her a reassuring expression, with just a hint of concern. "Good morning, Sue," she greeted, her voice much less weak than yesterday. "I hope you're doing alright after what happened earlier."

Comet was happy to hear her too, squealing in her direction and considering waddling over before choosing to stay beside his little ghostly friend.

"Awww. I'm—I'm okay now, I think," Sue sighed. "I'd rather not think or talk about it much if it's alright."

The older vixen firmly nodded. "Of course, it's your call. Feel free to rest Joy beside me. Something tells me she'll enjoy the warmth," Sundance smirked.

Before Sue could even take another step in her direction, Solstice was already helping her out, carefully hovering the little one to rest wrapped in the vixen's warm tail as she slid up the free chair over to her pupil, saving her those few steps. Spark, however, was confused about what her mom and friend had just talked about. She asked, "What happened, Sue? Are you—*ow*—okay?"

"Sue just answered that she'd rather not talk about it, sweetie," Sundance chided.

Sue's attention, however, was more so on the wince that had left the younger fox. She chuckled as she sat down, half joking and half guessing, "Hey Sparkie—is everything alright? Did you pull something while running towards Basil?"

"Noooooo," the kit insisted, wasting no time leaping onto her friend's lap. "I felt like that all—*ugh*—all day, I don't know why." Regardless of where her aching had come from, Sue was keen on comforting her as much as she could, careful pets relaxing the little fox as the stone den returned to its earlier silence.

Leaning back into her seat once more, Sue tried to take a hint from Joy and Spark and sink into the surrounding serenity. To let herself fully relax after everything she'd already been through, after having to go face-to-face with Solstice's family—

But she couldn't.

The events she'd witnessed were awful, and she'd rather forget about them, but... the words continued to linger in her mind. The threats towards Moonview as a whole and Comet in specific, the hatred towards them all, towards Solstice, towards her. And, of course, the mystery at the center of it all,

"Solstice," Sue whispered, pausing as she saw the Mayor wince quietly, "why did they call you 'Snowmoon'?"

Spark woofed at her in confusion, the vulpine sound making Sue realize she'd been taken out of her mentor's translation—probably for the best, considering the topic. Off to the side, said mentor sipped on her tea and tried her best to keep her son from noticing the shift in the room's emotions, eventually finding the courage to admit to her untruths. "^'Snowmoon' is my... real name, the one that had been given to me when I received my blessings.^"

Sue nodded slowly, having vaguely pieced together that much. "I see. Would you want me to call you—"

"^No, please no,^" Solstice insisted, a flash of fear shooting through her face. "^I'd like you to continue to use 'Solstice', please. 'Snowmoon' is... a deeply hateful name, one I do not want to represent me. I-I can only hope m-me refusing to use it doesn't bring on the P-Pale Lady's anger...^"

"^It does not, Solstice,^" Sundance reassured, taking the other two aback as she continued to calmly sort through her supplies.

Still, Sue was confused. "What makes it hateful?" she whispered.

"^In—in my tribe, each full Moon had its own sacred name, and the traditions associated with it. Snowmoon is the name for the full Moon of freezing winter. When life is still, land is barren, and the world is little more than white ground and blue sky. On the day of the Snowmoon, our warriors would head out far and wide to scour the land and strike the night kin when they were at their weakest, bereft of strength and starving—and it is these hunts I was named after.^"

The once-human could only sit there in shock as she processed Solstice's words; her tribe being so vile they had named her after an act of genocide. It was all the explanation she could ever need, only whispering a quiet "Thank you" afterwards, her understanding appreciated deeply by her mentor.

Thankfully for everyone, the mystic of the house knew just what to do to redirect everyone's heads toward less oppressive subjects. "^Alright, I think this is everything,^" Sundance spoke, making sure the little bag ghost in particular understood her words.

"^Now, the question—what do you want to look like, Twinkle?^"



AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a hot minute, hasn't it.

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get back to writing new chapters for Another Way, but I assure you, between finishing From the Vast, doing another editing pass for Another Way (currently updated up to Chapter 9, waiting for Beta readers to sign off on the rest), intermittent mental health issues, and starting to put together ideas for a video game, I've had my hands busy for the last few months. With all that done, though, we're back to our regular programming, with weekly updates (assuming no emergencies or the like).



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
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Chapter 28: Shape


Chapter 28: Shape



The assortment of fabrics, threads, and dyes was dazzling, and to say that Twinkle was overwhelmed would be an understatement. They didn't have the time to investigate even half the sights before them by the time Sundance's question arrived, impossible to answer in its vagueness.

Both in how much it encompassed, and because of the tiny ghost's limited communication.

Sundance wasted no time focusing on the link between herself and the obscured being, eager to help them make as informed a choice as possible. Her determination burned bright—but it had little fuel to go off, especially without the leftover adrenaline that had helped her yesterday evening. Both Forest Guardians immediately sensed her strain, Solstice giving her a mental hand soon after. She chuckled under her breath. "^Goodness, it's like trying to touch fog.^"

Sue exhaled through her nostrils at the remark, trying to reassure the lil' ghost that everything was going alright. Her mentor continued, much more clearly this time, "^Hello, Twinkle! Now, how to go about this... oh—have you chosen a fabric you like yet?^"

Now that was a question Twinkle both understood much better and which they had the ability to actually answer. They scooted along in their disguise, inky tendrils touching many patches at once as they examined the stunning selection. Beside them, Comet was also playing around with the patches, babbling at all the different textures as the ghost settled upon something.

Or rather, many somethings.

Sue was taken aback as their spectral limbs stretched many feet out, bundling many samples together into a haphazard pile. As good as the ghost themselves felt at finding all those things they liked, the adults' expressions faded as they watched them pick up more and more patches of fabric. Eventually, they settled on a stack half their size and with over a dozen different choices. Cotton, linen, silk—they had everything there, with the only trait most of their picks had in common being a yellow or yellow-adjacent coloration.

They like yellow, hmm. Worth keeping in mind.

As much as Solstice appreciated her son enjoying himself and the tiny ghost bundle patting their choices in satisfaction, this wouldn't help them much. She wracked her brain, trying to figure out how to ask them to narrow down their selection—only for Sundance to step in. The fox swiped everything Twinkle didn't select off to the side and laid out their choices in a neat grid. She smiled at the ghost, a blunt claw tapping on each misshapen patch before them. "Alright. Which of those feels the nicest, Twinkle?"

Another question, and this time they even knew the answer! The little ghost squeaked at the happy realization, bounding toward the smallest patch and repeatedly poking it with their tentacle. Sundance wasn't surprised by their choice, psychicing the off-white rectangle into her paw. "Silk, eh? Good choice, I'd say. We'll definitely need to ask Dewdrop for more, but that can come later."

Sue leaned back in her seat at the mention of silk, Spark mumbling quietly on her lap as her stream of affection was interrupted. On a rational level, she knew silk was neither modern nor even that much of a challenge in a village full of mutated insects—as evidenced by the very similar-looking patch covering her horn. Still, the word was associated with poshness in her mind.

If there was anyone who had earned a bit of luxury, it was Twinkle, so all was well.

Even beyond that, silk didn't strike her as being the most durable material. Certainly not something that would endure being in use around the clock, which... Twinkle needed, for better or worse. Before she could bring up the concern, she watched Sundance tilt her head towards her and shoot her a knowing wink before addressing the little ghost again. "Alright, so this will be the part of the inside, what you'll be touching. We'll use something else on the outside, something tougher..."

The vixen's gaze swept over the selection again as Twinkle scooted closer, left rather confused by her tangent. There was a limit to how much someone so tiny could understand, and Twinkle was right on its edge. Sundance was well aware, tapping a claw against one of the linen patches before snapping her fingers. "Alright, I have an idea. Now, where'd I toss that thing..." she mumbled as she closed her eyes.

The two Forest Guardians felt her aura probe around the corners of the room, its motions jerky and unwieldy. It went through drawer after drawer, having harder and harder time finding the unnamed item in question. Solstice leaned forward in her seat, telepathically asking, "^What are you looking for?^"

"^Metal octagon the size of your hand,^" Sundance explained, her focus faltering as the bundled ghost scooted closer and closer to her fluff.

Increasingly louder rattling filled the vixen's dwelling as Solstice focused harder and harder, uncertain why it was so hard to pull that item out. Before the mystic could suggest anything, her friend went for the brute force option. Her eyes lit up with a flare as she lifted everything in the workshop corner of the dwelling up and away from the wall—and whisked away the item in question, freeing it from its prison behind one of the drawers.

Sundance blinked, uncertain how the trinket could've ended up there. "How in the world... huh. Much appreciated, Solstice." She then gently tapped on Twinkle's outfit to catch their attention as she lowered the freshly retrieved item to their eye level, hovering over a couple of yellowish patches of linen beside it. "Now, Twinkle," she began, bringing both patches to their outfit and laying them on the ghost's sides as she drew their attention to the mysterious item. "Which color do you like more?"

The item turning out to be a mirror made sense, but its appearance... didn't. It wasn't framed in wood or stone like almost everything in Moonview, didn't have any decorations in thread or fabric. It appeared to be made entirely out of metal, brass outer rim surrounding the central reflective circle. She could spot cracks and imperfections in the mirror even from her vantage point, but they paled in significance to the item's very existence here.

Still, there was fashion to be done first.

Twinkle stared at their own reflection, jolting as they watched the clothed blob in the mirror move in tune with them. The realization brought them not a small amount of discomfort, almost making them hide on the spot—before Sundance reached in with her paw, covering the central part of the mirror and only leaving the two patches visible. "My apologies. I should've guessed seeing yourself like this would be uncomfortable. Still—which color do you prefer, Twinkle?"

The choice between lemon yellow and wheat yellow was a difficult one, especially with added stresses of being acutely reminded of their own appearance. Eventually Twinkle settled on the latter, shakily clutching the small patch. The material was chosen—now for the shape, and nobody was under any delusions that figuring that out wouldn't be the hard part of this entire undertaking. Sundance sighed, sliding away everything but the correct patch of linen and the bit of silk chosen earlier. "How we will figure out the form, I am unsure."

This time, Sue knew just what to do. If they would be designing something for Twinkle, then they'd have to sketch it out first. She suggested, "Maybe we can draw it for them? Ask them one thing after another to see if they like it."

Drawing on paper was decidedly not the wheelhouse of either of Sue's mentors, but they could see the utility in that approach. The vixen focused on a small pot in the corner of the storage corner, levitating out a single page of very dry paper and unfurling it on the ground before her, almost snapping it in half as she did so. "Let's try that, then! Twinkle, come, let me draw some ideas..." Sundance began, taking a deep breath as a stick-shaped piece of charcoal joined the paper in front of her—before leaping to the page's other side the moment Comet spotted it.

The sketching that followed… didn't go well.

Sue grew increasingly concerned as the makeshift pencil twitched in the vixen's mental grasp, its lines jagged and much longer than intended. Sundance wasn't blind to her mind not being the best suited for fine detail, soon trying to replace it with her paw—only for the results to be even worse.

The once-human didn't want to impose or come off as bragging, but... she could do a much better job than this. "Maybe I could try? I have a lot of experience with writing."

For a moment, she felt the vixen's mind reject her offer out of a knee-jerk impulse, about to double down on trying to do it alone—before catching itself and relenting with a tired sigh. "If you say so, Sue. Here, let me..." Sundance muttered, moving everything needed to the part of Sue's lap that wasn't being occupied by Spark. A thin plank to lay the page down on, paper, charcoal, the patches, and one small ghost, surprised by all the motion but happy to find themselves on their guardian's lap again.

To her immense dismay, the fiery kit had to vacate her current resting spot, groaning as she hopped off and curled up on the ground next to her friend.

Without an eraser, Sue couldn't quite undo the mess the older vixen's attempts at drawing left on the page. With a bit of effort, though, she incorporated them into an improved sketch of what Twinkle's current outfit looked like. A plain bundle, tied with two knots at the top, and with a couple of small holes for them to look and reach out through.

Despite her drawings being many, many levels of complexity away from the standards of even the most backwater art school on Earth, they still ended up catching Solstice's attention. It was one thing to draw quickly and nicely enough—it was something entirely different to do so without any psychics, with only physical fine motor control to rely on.

Guess human hands really are special, huh?

"Alright, this is how you look like right now, Twinkle." Sue explained, tapping the ghost's current sketch with a black-stained finger. Considering their reaction to the mirror earlier, feeling them shudder and withdraw further into her at her words was entirely expected. And yet, it still left her feeling sadder afterward. The emotion was undercut knowing that she was helping them overcome that discomfort, but not entirely erased. "Alright, if you'd rather look different, then... how about this?"

After they'd gotten over their shudder at seeing themselves again, Twinkle scooted along Sue's drawing arm, watching as she came up with a similarly blob-shaped outline, but one that was also much taller. Their guardian didn't even have to ask to sense their disapproval, stopping mid-stroke to tap idly on the brittle paper instead, struggling for ideas.

Though, for once, the ghost themselves pushed through to put their desire into words, weak and whispered. "Head..."

The word drew the attention of all three women—including the older vixen, increasingly feeling the call of the same exhaustion that had knocked out Joy. Sue nodded intently, lifting the charcoal stick and scribbling three tiny outlines at the top of the page. One with their current blob-shaped base and a head attached on top of it without any neck, another with a short neck like Spark had, and a third with a longer one, like her own.

Attaching a head on top of their outfit would be tricky either way, though. If the openings of their baggy bundle were on top, then that'd make it much harder to attach anything there. Ideally they'd do so at the bottom, but—

Before Sue could continue that thought, she glanced at Twinkle to get a feel for their current proportions—and blinked at seeing them clinging to her arm upside down, with the bag's openings at the bottom. They seemed to have no issue with that, observing her drawings through the small hole in the fabric. They then turned around to look up at her, briefly scared of her having accidentally seen them again.

That simplified things.

"Okay, which of these three do you like the most, Twinkle?" Sue asked, pointing at each doodle. She couldn't even finish showing them off before Twinkle settled on the neckless sketch, tapping it repeatedly with their tentacle. Their guardian beamed, drawing a larger version of the chosen outline, now with the opening for locomotion at the bottom. "I don't think you're big enough to fill all this in unless we make it really small, so you'll need holes to see through."

"Next, what would you want for the head—oh, Sundance, could I take a look at that mirror?" Sue interrupted herself, catching the vixen's attention right as she was about to stash the trinket in the depths of her workshop again.

Sundance blinked at her drowsily before nodding in return, her orange glow pale as it hovered the thick-rimmed mirror into Sue's waiting hand. Twinkle shied away from it—at least until she turned the reflective side firmly away from them, the inability to see themselves calming the ghostie down again.

Which Sue was very glad for, considering the wealth of inscriptions on the mirror's back side.

She wasn't as naïve as to let herself believe she'd suddenly found a human artifact in this world after so long. Still, having that idea be crossed out still felt just a bit disappointing. Human or not, the materials it was made of still implied a much more sophisticated knowledge of metallurgy than anything Patina and her little workshop could hope for in her dreams. The reflective part was made of a metal that didn't quite look like the silver mirrors she was familiar with, marred by a slight brown tint. It sure came much closer than anything she would've guessed could exist in a pre-industrial world.

The reverse was made of what looked like solid brass. It was corroded at the edges, but no less impressive because of that. Its outer rim was filled with geometrical engravings that Sue could only guess were supposed to be a writing script of some sort, one slightly less overwhelming than Moonview's own language—but only just. Each... symbol was very dense, made of upwards of a dozen straight lines and as many tiny circles, reminding Sue of Chinese at a glance. It contrasted greatly with the sigil at the center, looking oddly like a modern logo with how simple and elegant it was.

An outer ring, covered in a very thin layer of gold that had almost entirely faded away by now.

Three silver-ish, parallel stripes inside of it, intertwining at the edges.

Sue just barely stopped herself from asking questions about the trinket right away, instead first sketching yet another set of doodles for Twinkle. They showed off a few different ear shapes she was familiar with, with an additional option for no ears on their costume's head whatsoever. As the little ghost pondered, their guardian asked, "Sundance, where did you get this mirror from? It doesn't look... uh..."

"Doesn't look primitive enough to have been made in Moonview?" the vixen smirked, chuckling at the brief flash of embarrassment that went through her pupil at her joke. As Sue calmed down and Solstice got a good look at the mirror herself, their mentor and friend explained, "I'm quite sure I bartered for it in Central City a few years back. Though it wasn't made there either, got it from a traveling merchant."

That was an answer, but it didn't come close to scratching the itch of Sue's curiosity—and the vixen could tell. "As to who actually crafted it... I believe they name themselves 'Golden Sky', or something to that effect. I've picked up bits of information about them here and there, but am unsure how much of it is hearsay."

The phrasing took Sue aback as she added large triangular ears to her sketch, moving onto doodling several arrangements of limbs. "You've never interacted with them in your travels? Are they not around anymore, then?"

"^I think they're just not on this continent,^" Solstice chimed in, latching onto the discussion as a means of distraction.

Sundance nodded. "To the best of my knowledge, that's correct. They aren't on our landmass, and if they were, we'd be very aware of it."

Sue raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong with them?"

"I doubt a civilization this massive isn't hiding something repulsive underneath their facade, based on the places I've visited—but that's not what I meant. They are incredibly numerous, and from what I've heard, eagerly spread their influence far and wide. As to why nobody on our landmass has crossed paths with them yet, aside from a few traders insane enough to cross the seas to and fro? Beats me."

Her pupil nodded along with her words, imagination taking her for a ride as she tried to come up with an analogy for her own world. She wondered if this was how it felt for people far, far from the Roman Empire to interact with their items, if briefly. To be a rural community in present day Scotland or Finland, for whom Rome and its grandeur must've sounded more like a myth than a real place, and get their hands on an item that didn't just prove that Rome was real, but that it was also far more technologically advanced than what they could make.

Hilarious, especially considering the divine meddling in her dreams.

It was one thing to be kidnapped from her world, to be thrust into a conflict between deities central to the largest civilization around, with the fate of the entire world at stake. It was something entirely different to have gotten whisked away into what must be an utter backwater in comparison, all that just to play divorce counselor for two bitter deities.

Come forth, glorious hero from another dimension, you must come to Earth to save it from a catastrophic divine conflict! Which of the many grand and breathtaking cities will you be sent to, you ask? Oh, hero, you are going to Dumfries, population thirty-three thousand—

"^...Sue?^" Solstice asked, worried at the younger Forest Guardian having spent the last ten minutes with an increasingly silly expression as her drawing hand tried to sketch gods-know-what in the air.

"Oh—uh, sorry," Sue mumbled, blinking as she grounded herself to the amusement of everyone around her. Everyone except Twinkle, that is. The little ghost grew worried that their repeated pokes at the sketch featuring simple, relatively stubby paws made their guardian upset with their choice.

To their relief, it wasn't the case at all, as shown first by Sue sketching their selection down, and then by holding them tight, stroking the top of their disguise. Both she and they needed it. As fun as it was to drift off into imagined absurdities and giggle at her own bad jokes, she had an increasingly excited little ghost on her lap, eager to look like someone again. "I'm here Twinkle, I'm here."

As Twinkle held her close and she stretched her hand, Sue took another look at their sketch so far, finding it... broadly complete. Sure, much of the detail was still missing, but they were getting close to finished as far as the outline went. Two segments, triangular ears, and short decorative arms. What else could they even add? Sue smiled, happy with the results so far. "I think we're almost done."

"Oh oh, can I see?" Spark yawned, stretching on the floor beside her friend and standing up on her rear legs to get a better look at the sketch. To her body's relief, the drawing was lowered to her soon after, letting her examine the messy arrangement of various small sketches—and notice something was missing. "Awwh, Twinkle doesn't want a tail?"

...

Right, tails exist here.

"I knew I forgot something," Sue lied, chuckling in as non-awkward a way as she could manage as she scribbled another row of doodles. Each of them had all the details that had been chosen so far, but with a slightly different tail poking out from behind their disguise. Cat-like long and thin ones, dog-like shorter and fluffier, Spark's large and bushy—even a thick reptilian one like Astra or Ginger had.

Satisfied with the selection provided for the hauntling wrapped around her, Sue dared going back to where her thoughts had taken her earlier. "That 'Central City' place," she began, catching her mentors' attention. "You've mentioned it a few times, but I'm not sure how big it is. It kinda sounded important, but now I'm not sure, especially with that 'Golden Sky' land sounding a lot bigger than it..."

Solstice giggled. "^Believe me, Sue, it's a lot less impressive than that name makes it sound.^"

"I'm quite certain they thought they were the largest settlement in the world when they chose it," Sundance smirked, "but that's far from the truth, even on our landmass. To the little credit they deserve, you'd have to march for most of a Moon to reach any settlement that's larger than it, so I can't blame them too much for coming up with that name. Nowadays, however? No excuse but their ego."

"But what is it like?" Sue asked again.

Sundance tapped her claw on the stone floor. "Much more sprawled out. It used to be a cluster of villages, each with their own farmland, folklore and traditions, before they unified a hundred years ago or so. Much of that happened by force, and it left relations... strained between what are now different parts of Central City. They're quite hostile towards each other and any outsider that isn't able to immediately contribute with their labor."

Oh, it's just London.

"I see. And you went there for diplomatic relations recently?"

Solstice nodded. "^Just before you showed up, from what we were told. It might be an... unpleasant place, but its population is still much larger than ours, five- or six-fold if I were to guess. The last thing we need are more enemies.^"

*nudge nudge*

Before Sue could continue to probe the topic of Moonview's unpleasant neighbor, she found her arm being gently pulled on by the ghost clinging to her. She leaned forward with a faint nod, bringing a finger to the choice of the tail and waiting for Twinkle to pick the one they liked—only for them to not do that. Their guardian waited for a moment, then another, before finally realizing something was afoot. "What's wrong, Twinkle? Can't choose?"

They shook with their whole body at the idea, concentrating as they gathered their amorphous thoughts. "...other..." they whimpered, keeping their tentacles close to themselves.

Now that was a development Sue wasn't expecting. She was the furthest thing from a biologist, but there couldn't have been too many possible tail types for them to choose, right? She sure didn't include all of them in her selection, but struggled to come up with anything markedly different that still belonged to a terrestrial animal.

...

Well, there was that pink nightmare bat with a stinger tail. If it was up to Sue, their butt would've been kicked off all the way to Mars, but for the time being, they counted as terrestrial. That blue bird they had talked with earlier was an option too with their avian tail. And Willow had something else entirely too, to the best of her recollection...

Oh, bother.

Undeterred, Sue got to sketching all her new ideas for the bag of child attached to her arm to pick from. She encouraged them with gentle taps and eager nods as their inky tentacle moved from option to option—and again, didn't like any of them. She'd kept a 'no tail' option so it couldn't have been that, but if not, then what? This world was weird, but there was no way there were that many options as far as tails went.

She hoped so, at least.

Still, it was clear her intuition had run into a dead-end, and she'd need a more informed perspective. Said perspective was struggling to stay awake with no discussion to keep her occupied, but it wasn't exactly hard to spot Sue's mind veering towards her, even while this tired. "Something on your mind, Sue?"

"I—yes. I'm trying to find the right tail for Twinkle, and I tried all the different kinds I could think of, but none of them are what they want. Do you know what they could want?" Sue asked, handing the almost full page of sketches to the vixen's orange psychics.

Sundance squinted at the drawing, mouthing to herself after she'd found the scribbled corner with different tails. And, to Sue's surprise, ended up similarly confused. As opposed to her pupil, though, she remembered many other species she'd seen, talked, fought and... bonded with, out there in the wild. "Hmmmm," she intelligently began, "try a spiral, a zig-zag, and a segmented one with a large bulb at the end."

All of those sounded more like attributes of Lovecraftian entities than anything that even resembled an animal, but Sue didn't have the ground to argue. Once she got her hands on the page again, she wasted no time sketching the options—and got a match almost immediately. As dismissive as she'd been to the idea moments earlier, if Twinkle's reaction was anything to go by, having a zig-zag tail meant a lot to them.

With the tail added, the rest of the details almost filled themselves. A pair of eyes, a simple smile, a few more lines to better separate all the individual parts. Sue hoped that having their default be a warm, friendly expression would help with first impressions. Duck knows Twinkle could use all the help they could get with that. Once the hauntling themselves signed off on the finished design, she would upscale it and copy it on the other, clean-ish side. Still, had to get their approval first. "So, Twinkle—do you want to look like that?"

They erupted in happy emotions before Sue could even finish her question, tapping the finished sketch repeatedly as they wriggled on top of her arm. Their joy soon grew infectious, even catching Spark's attention. Sue eagerly showed the drawing to the fiery kit, taking in a not-insignificant amount of pride in both the little ghost and the almost-as-little fox being impressed with the quality of her scribbles—

"Was this how you used to look like, Twinkle?"​

The hearts in the room skipped a collective beat at Spark's question. The vixen herself soon realized her own faux pas too, especially with the lil' ghost's reaction being so immediate. They froze mid-movement, letting out a drawn-out whimper as their tentacles shook and withdrew. "I-I'm sorry Twinkle, I-I—" Spark pleaded, her alarmed woofs only making Twinkle sadder and sadder. Wordlessly, Sue pulled the ghostie into her arms, holding them to her chest as Sundance beckoned her daughter over.

"Shhhh, shhhhhh..." Sue tried to soothe. Despite how hazy many of their emotions were, their despair was very clear. They didn't even dare reach out to hold her hand, curling up as tight as they could inside their disguise. They tried to cling close to her, too scared to make themselves seen again—but she was there for them. She held them close for as long as they needed it, the stability of her heartbeat and regular, warm touch bringing comfort.

Not the same heartbeat they once pressed their cheek against, not the same touch brushing through what used to be their fur—but just as safe. Just as loving.

On the other side of the room, Sundance was offering much the same comfort to her own child. Spark was hurting less because of what she was or wasn't, and more so because of having hurt someone else. It was an understandable, innocent mistake—but one Sundance knew better than to portray as such right away. The point wasn't that Spark had or hadn't done something bad, but that her mom was there to reassure and explain, in that order.

Comet was there, too, pausing his uncoordinated play with patches of fabric to snuggle in between the two foxes. Partly because of his friend hurting and him still wanting to help them out as much as he could. But mostly because his de facto aunt was very warm and comfy.

Regardless of each little one's specific reasons, the comfort they all sought calmed them down bit by bit, the presence of their guardians and parents soothing their hurt. Sue didn't know what to say to the ghost, the specifics of their situation beyond her capacity to imagine. Sure, her case was similar in broad strokes, but that was it.

Though... maybe that's all that was needed. "I know it hurts to not be who you once were, Twinkle," Sue whispered, holding them closer and looking them in the eyes through the hole in their disguise. "But no matter how you look or want to look, we love you the way you are."

The little ghost might not have understood every nuance of Sue's words, even with the best translation Solstice could provide, but they got enough to reach out of their disguise and cling tight to her once more. Even at their firmest, their embrace still felt like it was barely there, but that only made feeling it even more special.

A snarky rational part of Sue's mind pointed out that the wetness she was feeling on her chest was much more likely to be her own tears and not Twinkle's, but she gave that outlandish possibility no thought.

As both the hauntling and their guardian calmed down, the two foxes chatted among themselves. Sundance whispered something to Spark, the quiet woofs between them remaining untranslated but bringing them both relief despite that. The same couldn't be said for the lil' kit whimpering at yet another ache going through her body, making her curl up closer to her mom. For a split second, Sue felt terror grasp the older vixen's mind, a possibility so paralyzing in its horribleness it left her speechless—

And then, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by its almost exact opposite. There was nothing to fear, things would be alright. More than alright, even.

Sue neither knew what was going on there nor wanted to pry, distracting herself and the bagful of child wrapped around her with her sketch once more. Twinkle's actions had all but confirmed that this creature was how they used to look like, but with that in mind... did they still want to look like this? To be reminded of what they no longer were?

Ultimately, there was only one way to know. She tapped on one of their many tendrils wrapped around her. "Twinkle, do you still want to look like this?" she asked, tapping on the mostly finished sketch. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."

The ghost outstretched their limb towards the drawing, about to disregard their worries and tap on the drawing after all—before stopping in mid-air. It all hurt, and they didn't want to hurt. They wanted to be this familiar shape, the shape they saw in puddles and streams many times, the shape that shared burrows with them, the shape that played with them in the tall grass. But they weren't, and to some extent knew that they couldn't ever be again.

But it was still familiar. It still made them feel happy.

Maybe it could make others feel happy, too.

Sue held the ghost closer as they pushed through their hesitation. They then extended their limb around the entire page and the plank it rested on, pulling them in until they were wrapped around it. Their impromptu embrace didn't last long, but it was no less needed because of that, palpably soothing their wounded soul. Even after they had let go of the drawing, they were afraid of it being taken away from them, as if they would lose this one thread tying them to what they once were.

Which posed an issue for finishing it, but not a massive one. "Could I get some more paper?" Sue asked, carefully petting the bundle of ghost as she tried to memorize everything she could about her cobbled-together drawing.

Sundance closed her eyes to focus—and grumbled, posture deflating. "I'm... afraid this was my last page. Will a plank work as a replacement?"

At this point I'm just about ready to draw it on everything and everyone around to make sure it won't be lost.

"Sure."

The moment the thin piece of wood touched her hands, Sue got to sketching, copying her design one stroke at a time. Head and torso, small arms, triangular ears, openings for Twinkle to see out of, the ever-important zig-zag tail, their new face. Everything was there—now to finish it. Which... Sue had no idea how to do, and any fine details were likely beyond Twinkle's ability to describe.

Fortunately for them both, Solstice recognized the outline immediately. "^Ahh, I see. Yes, I've seen their kin around, though I do not remember any living in Moonview's vicinity. I'm so sorry, Twinkle,^" the older Forest Guardian comforted, extending her hand for the lil' ghost to grasp on their own terms as the plank was passed to Sundance.

Oh yes, the vixen was well familiar with their kin. Considering the circumstances, it was probably for the best to not bring up them having annoyed her many times during her travels, though. "I recognize them well, yes. Would you like for me to fill in the missing detail, Sue? I haven't seen much of this particular form, but I remember the broad strokes."

Sue nodded on autopilot, comforting the ghost in tandem with her other mentor—but something about Sundance's description still caught her attention. "Why not this form? Is it special?"

Sundance sighed. "Less so special, and more so well-protected. That is their hatchling form, tiny enough to hide in tall grass and even small burrows. Maybe their family had hoped there weren't any ground-digging predators around that could exploit their reliance on electricity for self-defense, and—no, that is crass of me to theorize out loud, I apologize."

Twinkle was thankfully much too focused on calming down to overhear, let alone understand much of Sundance's words. Sue still appreciated them greatly, though. The explanation brushed against something she had only seen very brief glimpses of in this world, and was eager to find out more about. She wasn't the most avid of readers, but the trope of a savvy, intelligent (and nearly always white and male) time traveler bringing the knowledge of electricity back to unenlightened masses of civilizations past was one she was well familiar with.

Alas, any ideas of doing so here ran into some fundamental issues. It was almost impossible to do anything useful with electricity without advanced metallurgy and a solid grasp on chemistry, of which Moonview had neither. They'd also need the ability to actually generate said electricity, which wasn't a given, even with both Twinkle's old form and at least one local villager having an ability to use it for self-defense. They weren't milking electric eels back on Earth for a reason.

...

Wonder if that makes electricity one of those fancy 'types'? Feels like it should.

Sue wanted to comment on electric abilities being really cool—but kept her mouth shut, not wanting to rub the ghost's loss in, even if unintentionally. To the relief of everyone, Sundance soon returned the sketch back to her pupil's hands, who then showed it to the hauntling clinging to her. Judging by them letting go of the paper drawing to grab the plank of wood, the vixen's sketch seemed to be accurate.

Of the noteworthy changes was the zig-zag tail and the outer edges of the ears being filled in with black, together with a small spiky collar around their neck. The firm lines at the base of their ears took Sue aback a bit, before she realized they were most likely meant to denote a different shape. Not exactly triangular, but more so arrowhead-shaped.

Those changes made sense, which couldn't be said about the circles on the sketch's cheeks. Was that intended to be a blush of sorts? A really strange addition if so. Odd as it was on its own, it made her think—maybe they could still add something to the outfit to make it truly Twinkle's? "Thank you, Sundance. Do you all think we should add anything more, something more personal?"

The question perked up the two women and Spark alike, shaking the kit out of her earlier gloom. "Oh oh oh—how about a nose? It doesn't look like they have a nose right now," she woofed, about to describe her own nose—before her mom stopped her.

"Spark, sweetie, to the best of my memory, Twinkle's former kin didn't have a prominent nose."

The kit tilted her head. "But why not? Won't it help them smell better?"

Sue and her mentors blinked in unison at the idea, their shared confusion prompting Comet to fill the air with a drawn out, confused squeak. "^Spark, I don't think that's how it works,^" Solstice explained calmly, trying her hardest to keep her emotions away from her face.

"Awwwh... but what if?"

Sundance chuckled, catching her daughter's attention. "Spark, I reckon it's best we don't try. You'd feel very weird if you suddenly woke up with a very different nose, wouldn't you? I feel the same would happen to Twinkle if we just... added it on."

Now that was something the smaller fox could empathize with, trying to not let it get to her. "Awwh, okay. But maybe something pretty instead? Oh oh, like... like... agh—*ow*—I can't think of anything..."

"Maybe the Pale Lady's blessing tattoos?" Sue giggled—and froze almost immediately, realizing how ill-timed her humor was. She dreaded to look at the other Forest Guardian, fearing her abortion of a joke had at best plunged her into sorrow and at worst infuriated her. Either way, a swift apology was the best thing she could do. "Umm, s-sorry Solstice, I—"

"^You've done nothing wrong, Sue, worry not,^" the Mayor reassured, her somber tone betraying her words. Sue didn't feel any better at hearing it, hand twitching as she searched for the right words to say. Solstice could tell, elaborating soon after. "^I mean it, Sue. I'm not offended, it's... *sigh*, your idea isn't bad—shouldn't be bad, at least.^"

Sue's attention was now firmly pulled away from despair, instead focusing on what her mentor really meant. She looked at the Mayor, wincing at her conflicted expression, her own shame clear on her features. Shame, worry, and indecision, the latter partially alleviated as Solstice glanced at her best friend for reassurance, delivered with a confident nod immediately after.

"^These markings should be everyone's bond with the Pale Lady; you're not wrong, Sue. That they had been wrested from the other kin, stolen by Forest Guardians, and turned into a graven symbol of our so-called superiority over others is—it's abhorrent,^" Solstice mumbled, chewing through many years' worth of thoughts on this very issue. "^To think they even keep it from their apparent allies, that they kept it from da—f-from Luneth, my father, because of his different kin... loathsome.^"

Sue found herself leaning towards the other Forest Guardian in her seat, nodding along with her words. This wasn't her faith, not really, and hearing Solstice's opinions on how it was being used and abused reassured her she wasn't somehow gravely misreading the situation. The Mayor needed reassurance from time to time, her expression twisting and threatening to withdraw into shameful deference—but each time, the vixen would step in.

Anything to make up for the one time where she wasn't able to.

"^And the things they use them for, the kinds of people they are bestowed upon... I doubt Solanum has ever uplifted another person through her actions in her entire life. And Nightbane...^" Solstice began, digging through her mind for words—but there weren't any. There was only ever a wound deep in her psyche, only a few dozen Moons younger than herself, excruciating to so much as acknowledge. Her face twisted as her hand grasped the armrest of her chair, anger building up on itself until it threatened to lash out at everything around—

"Solstice."

Hearing her name be spoken jolted the Mayor out of the traumatized spiral her psyche was all too eager to send her down, the fury that had already built up leaking out as tears. This wasn't the time for this; this wasn't something Sue or anyone else should be involved in. Before the younger Forest Guardian could speak up to offer whichever reassurance she could, Solstice continued, forcibly pushing past that mental hurdle. "^Their—their markings have only ever been symbols of allegiance to our tribe, not to the Pale Lady, not to anything she stands for. Hell, if we were to treat the markings the way they ought to be, as a sacred bond with the Pale Lady after earning them through virtuous acts, then Sue would've earned them more than Solanum and Nightbane taken together.^"

As the Mayor wound down from leftover anger and other emotions, her pupil could only sit there, stunned at her words, uncertain and afraid of how much they were truly meant. A part of her wanted her to elaborate, needed it—but the rest of her overruled it.

This isn't meant for me.

Solstice sensed the turmoil in Sue's mind—and stepped around it, no less scared by it all. "^Either way; is that everything on the sketch, Sue? If so, then we could head out to get all the material we need for it from Dewdrop.^"

Before Sue could answer, Sundance chimed in from her end, her expression betraying her worry about the exchange that had just taken place. At least before she shook it off, returning to her usual level-headed confidence. "I'd appreciate some more paper, if you could. Will come in handy."

"^Of course. Do you have any estimates for how much of each fabric will you need?^" Solstice asked, pushing through the tension in the air.

"I'd say... a piece of silk the size of both your hands, and four... no, five times that of pale yellow linen. Oh—and ground charcoal from Patina."

They had their impromptu shopping list; it was time to head out. Sue was torn between wanting to head out to get some fresh air, and hesitating to stay beside Solstice, worried about the reprise of their first training session together. One of those impulses was stronger than the other, though, and with the other Forest Guardian doing her best to push past that ill-fitted remark, she figured she could do that, too.

As Sue got up from her seat—to the immediate complaint of her recovering leg—Twinkle clung to her, no less willing to let her go now than they had been earlier, especially after their harrowing revelation. Neither did Sue want to leave them alone after all that, wordlessly securing them around her chest as she watched Spark scramble over. "Do you—you want to go with us?" Sue asked, hoping to Duck the kit wouldn't acknowledge the crack in her voice.

"Yes!" Spark woofed excitedly, only for her confidence to fade. "But... but..." she whimpered as she looked over her shoulder at her mom, afraid to leave her alone so soon after she'd come so close to losing her.

"^It's okay if you'd rather stay with your mom, sweetie,^" Solstice reassured, putting on a smile that was only partially forced.

"Yeah!" Sue reassured, kneeling beside the lil' fox to dispense some more affection. "I can't blame you one bit after what your mom has been through, Spark. I'll be alright, promise."

It was all the reassurance the kit needed, nuzzling her tall friend's hand, then leg, before doubling back and huddling in close against her mom, well on her way to join the drowsy fates of Joy and Comet. With one last round of soft waves and goodbyes, it was finally time to go.

To run away from the ever-gnawing thoughts.



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
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Chapter 29: Dissonance


Chapter 29: Dissonance



The return to fresh air didn't have anywhere near as large an effect on Sue's mental state as she wished it had.

A light gust left her shuddering as she followed Solstice down the stairs, resting one hand on the wall of Sundance's dwelling, just in case. Her injured leg hurt a bit with each step, but she managed. Between the uneasy discussion at the vixen's house and the earlier scares, the ever-winding worries made it hard to focus on bodily sensations.

Neither Forest Guardian was oblivious to their shared troubles, either. And yet, they remained silent, hesitant to look at each other in their current state. Praying under their breaths that the murk coiling inside their heads would just slither away on its own in time. Anything but facing it. Facing each other.

Thankfully, they wouldn't be sentenced to a silent death march—not with the door to the dwelling downstairs from Sundance's den opening right as they got going. The younger Forest Guardian paid little attention to the movement in her peripheral vision, eager to get this done with as fast as possible. The older one, though, wanted to check up on the craftsbug just heading out of his house. "^Good afternoon, Kantaro.^"

The familiar name finally grabbed Sue's attention, redirecting it onto the bipedal beetle carrying a large chisel and several pieces of carefully cut limestone. His movements weren't as steadfast as the first time she saw him, but he was managing, to the relief of both of them. "Afternoon, Solstice," he answered, grunting as he corrected his hold on the off-white stone.

"^How are you holding up?^" the Mayor asked as the three of them got going, the memory of Root's furious outburst still fresh in her mind.

"I'm doing well. The incident at the Pale Lady's shrine may have hurt my pride and body alike, but I am recovering fast," he added, his occupied hands twitching as if praying at the mention of the lunar deity.

Solstice put on the most confident smile she was capable of, glad to have at least that relief. "^That is great to hear, thank you.^"

"The knowledge we have avoided the worst helps, too."

Sue shivered, feeling the group's attention be drawn to her at the beetle's remark; the ordinarily neutral sensation turned unnerving with everything going around in her mind. She nodded shyly as she held Twinkle closer to her chest. The tiny ghost wasted no time wrapping their tiny tentacles around her hand, squeezing it as strongly as they could. She mumbled, "Y-yeah, we have."

Kantaro continued, "You are a strange one... Shu-eh? Sh-khae? Su-u-eh. I suppose the old truth of the value of an outside perspective is no less true here than it had been back at my hive, though. Even if I would never have thought you fierce enough to stand up to Root, you did so anyway. For that, you have my gratitude."

The praise might've been veiled in stiff wording, but as far as Sue could tell, it was in earnest. She hadn't gotten any better at taking those over the few days she'd been here, resorting to a nervous chuckle and an awkward nod as Solstice spoke up. "^Indeed. If not for her, I don't know what would've happened.^" Her voice was slow, regret in it heavy enough for even the mighty beetle to hear clearly. Still, she tried to not draw any more attention to it. "^What's the status of the broken wall at Her shrine, Kantaro?^"

The craftsbug wasn't a fan of the clumsy misdirection, but the topic being invoked grasped his interest immediately. "To the best of my knowledge, it hasn't been touched since it fell over. As of now, I have no plans of doing anything with it, or moving it anywhere."

Solstice nodded absentmindedly, glad that at least that mess hadn't gotten any messier overnight. "^I see. How… how difficult would it be to put Night Father's monument back together, d-do you reckon?^" she asked, wrestling with—and defeating—her leftover discomfort with each word.

Sue watched as Kantaro moved his less-occupied arm closer to his stomach, rhythmically tapping his claws against the dark blue chitin as he thought the idea through. "Highly challenging at the best. Between previous weathering and the complex shattering, I imagine I would have to recreate a substantial part of Night Father's relief. Even that presumes the ability to repair the slab without the result turning unsightly or non-uniform. Furthermore, even discarding all the aforementioned issues, not even I am bold enough to deface Her shrine by removing the other half of Night Father's old monument."

Not what either the stonesmith or the Mayor wanted to hear, leaving them chewing through the problem in silence. Sue was the furthest thing from knowledgeable about the full extent of the grudges between Moonview and the night kin, but she figured her suggestion wouldn't be too controversial. "Sounds like you'll have to just ask Newmoon, right? I guess some of them will want a new shiny shrine, but others will just want their old one back, even if it's not as pristine as it used to be."

Kantaro nodded. "That does appear to be the best course of action, yes. I'll ask Ginger about it tomorrow after we deliver the supplies."

The change of topic brought the older Forest Guardian out of the uncertain confusion she had been in, forcing a shaky, hurried nod. "^Yes, that—that's true. About the supplies, what's their status with your team, Kantaro?^"

"Daisy has been preparing stone for Newmoon since daybreak, and the last I checked, she's still at it. She threatened to tie our limbs together if we bother her, which leaves us preparing lumber in the meantime," the beetle answered, almost sneaking in a chuckle here and there.

Sue's weary mind didn't appreciate the mental image of a blue mini-godzilla twisting her spindly body into a pretzel, hurriedly shoving 'don't bother the grandma rhino' into her mind as Solstice continued. "^How much stone do you reckon we'll have for Newmoon by tomorrow morning?^"

"More than we're capable of transporting."

The Mayor sighed—guess that was the ultimate limit on how much aid they could even hope to provide. "^I see. That's good to hear.^"

"In the worst case, we'll just have to make that trip several times," Kantaro remarked, his expression approaching a smile. "I doubt Granite and his team will mind much."

Considering how affectionate the builders were towards Ginger the last time they got to meet... yeah, that tracks.

"^Thank you for your input, Kantaro. Sue, we're almost at Dewdrop's shack, it's just up ahead.^"

Solstice's comment jolted her pupil out of her autopilot as Kantaro continued to walk straight ahead, towards the builders' current work site. Most of said group was busy cutting wood down to size, even the team members that rarely worked with trees. The sight made Sue realize that, even despite having not interacted with them much, she was familiar with them enough to tell someone was missing. The gray four arms—Granite—was present, the spiky brown pangolin—Hoff—was present. Even the gray bipedal rhino, their name still unknown, was nearby, chatting with Patina—

"Oi, Bedrock, trying to romance everything that moves again? Or angling for Celestica this time?" Kantaro hollered, his low tone cutting through the crowd. Neither his fellow workers nor Patina spared the rhino their amusement as he grumbled under his breath. Sue was uncomfortable with the situation for as long as it took her to sense that the now-named Bedrock didn't really mind, taking the ribbing in stride.

Guess a sensible chuckle wouldn't be out of line here.

As the two Forest Guardians giggled and the bagful of ghost attached to one of them grew confused, the older psychic realized there was someone missing from the scene. Nothing she would mind normally—the less she had to micromanage people, the better. Still, having anyone be missing when the rest of their team was diligently working on Newmoon's supplies was... odd. "^Hmm, where's...^" Solstice cut herself off, rocking her head as she tried to recall the youngest builder's name, to no avail.

It was only at that point that Sue also noticed the absence of the last member of the builders' band, the insect-looking robot that acted weirdly apprehensive towards Ginger. Even putting aside their odd appearance considering how little metal there was to be found elsewhere in Moonview, their past actions got Sue just as focused as her mentor, scanning her surroundings—

"Oh, Chisel?" Kantaro cut in. "She's... away, somewhere."

The four-armed Granite perked up at the mention of his crew member. He stilled the saw in his many arms before speaking up, voice like a rock slide, "At the mill, boss! Been carryin' all the wood scrap there for paper makin'!"

The beetle nodded with his entire body, satisfied. "That makes sense. That answers your curiosity, Solstice?"

"^Yes, thank you. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to head over there ourselves later and fetch the paper Sundance asked for,^" Solstice added, voice unfocused.

With the last question answered, the two psychics parted ways with the craftsbug, exchanging a handful of waves each towards the builders' squad. If their responses were anything to go by, though, there was one Forest Guardian they were much more enthusiastic about, and it wasn't the Mayor. Fortunately, the realization couldn't quite worm itself into either Sue's or Solstice's psyches.

Both of them were already full of other unprocessed junk.

Dewdrop's shack turned out to be larger than the choice of the name implied, though not sturdier. With all the walls made from long, thin branches weaved between wooden beams, it looked just about insecure enough to be blown off the face of Moonview with one firm gust. It wasn't its outside what the group was interested in, though. Solstice gently knocked on the door before backing off a step and a half, with Sue following in tow.

Having the opportunity to brace herself for the red spider's appearance helped immensely in preventing another freak out on Sue's end. The impulse to hit the legs once Dewdrop had opened the door and peeked out from under the top of the door frame remained as strong as ever, though. He greeted, "Good afternoon, Solstice, Sue, ...unknown guest on Sue's front. How may I help?"

As Sue looked down at Twinkle, realizing they've been holding her with their tentacles for a while now, Solstice picked up the conversation. "^Hello, we'd like to grab some materials for this little ghost here.^" She smiled as she nudged her head towards said ghost, Dewdrop's eyes narrowing at the sight.

"How curious. If you'll forgive me, though, I would like to finish my current weave before digging into the inventory. I assure you, it will not be long."

Neither Forest Guardian minded, with the Mayor giving Dewdrop an eager go ahead moments later. In the blink of an eye, he was out of view again, withdrawing into the depths of the shack—the depths that Sue's position gave her a good view of.

A loom the size of a car spanned the entire width of the shack, most of it filled with a silky white thread. Sue knew nowhere near enough to have an exact idea about how they worked—but Dewdrop did, and he was rocking it. The two rows of upright threads kept wriggling back and forth as he kept spinning and threading his silk between them, using his front horn and agile legs in place of manual tooling. The rough wooden frame on the edges of the loom gave him room to maneuver. Which he did, with his entire body, not letting the thread stay still even for a moment.

His busy and too-jittery-for-Sue's-comfort work was certainly eye-catching, but it wasn't the only sight to be seen in his shack. Off in the corner and under the floorboards laid several spools of material, the latter peeking out into view out of their sheer excess. An array of shelves rested on the opposite wall, its numerous bowls, bags and bottles filling the cramped space with a somewhat chemical scent. Sue really, really hoped the spider didn't actually sleep in here.

The last sight forced Sue to crane her head past the door frame to spot it; attached to the shack's front wall. A much smaller loom rested there, currently unused, and next to it, a contraption that reminded her of a primitive spinning wheel. It was being worked on by the green smiley-faced spider Sue had seen a few times by now. Not a definitive proof that they and Dewdrop were related, but it was a solid indication—

"Tassel, how's the last spool going?" Dewdrop asked.

A high-pitched, clicking voice answered soon after, "Almost done, dad!"

Guess that solves it.

"Good. Almost done here, too. You've done a lot today, I'm proud of you."

The smaller spider didn't answer with any words that Solstice could readily translate, but the repetitive chittering sound certainly felt happy. Unnerved as the two spiders still made her, by reasons beyond their control, it was nice to feel that affectionate warmth here. It, together with Solstice's reassuring presence behind her, made it not even that difficult to keep on watching Dewdrop put his entire body into his work—including the two... limbs on his back, their actual purpose unknown.

And judging by Twinkle's confused mind easing out into a silent focus, they were enjoying the spectacle, too. Sue's hand absentmindedly navigated towards them, gently cupping the bundle of ghost. The constant stream of stimulation made it easy to suppress the dour topic from earlier for that bit longer—

"Hello, miss!"

The cheerful, hissing call came from mere inches away from her, launching Sue into the most uncoordinated backstep of her life, avoiding falling straight onto her vulnerable back by the virtue of multiple deities watching over her. Probably. The mental image of the green spider the size of her head silently hanging from a thread beside her before deciding to finally greet her almost sent her into a panic attack there and then. But only almost, Solstice's hand on her shoulder soothing her psyche enough to avoid that.

Right, she had to greet them back. "H-hello there, uh, Tassel? Y-you—you surprised me a bit, is all."

The green spider nodded eagerly at the mention of his name, the angular momentum making him slowly turn around on his thread. Before he could respond himself, though, his dad stepped in first, clarifying the situation. "Tassel, this is Sue, the Forest Guardian I mentioned to you a few days ago."

Tassel's initial reaction might've been a couple of slow, confused clicks, but it didn't take long for the realization to come crashing down on him. "Eeeee I'm sorry! Are you okay? Dad told me a wildling cousin attacked you and I never asked if you were okay! I hope it didn't hurt too much."

Sue stared at him in silence as she processed his words. She was simultaneously touched by his concern, yet glad he hadn't previously asked her about her… experiences with their kin. Her first proper meeting with Dewdrop was tense enough, even with both him and Solstice doing everything possible to soothe her scaredy self. Having someone much younger, much more energetic, much less preoccupied with matters of personal space might've had her heart just stop on the spot.

Wonder if any of the electricity-controlling locals would've been able to defibrillate me.

Still, Tassel was clearly trying his best, and with one portion of Solstice beside her and seven portions of deep breaths, Sue had enough calmness in her to answer. "I-I'm okay, thank you. It... hurt a lot, yes," she muttered, looking down at her bandaged leg, "but I'm getting better now."

Tassel clicked his mandibles happily. "Yay! Why didn't you fight them off when they attacked you?"

A long, heavy silence filled the space around the shack, the question one nobody was expecting—definitely not in this blunt a form, at least. The younger Forest Guardian tried to put something together and think back to Solstice's pretend story for her, but to her relief, the Mayor had her back. "^She got taken off-guard, Tassel. It's not always easy to sense approaching threats when you're already dealing with a lot.^"

Sue held in a chuckle at her mentor's fib—it was almost the exact opposite, really. She remembered how easy it was to sense that beast when it took off after her, how starkly bright Spark's fear was. Sensing these wasn't ever an issue. Doing something, on the other hand...

Thankfully, the lil' spider took the explanation at face value. "Okay! Oh—who is that? Are they attached to you and sucking your blood?"

I beg your pardon.

"Tassel, please don't pry into matters like that," Dewdrop chastised.

The green spider shook his body to the sides, radiating worry as he continued to spin on his thread. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"^It's okay, Tassel—but no, Twinkle here isn't doing anything like that. They're just holding Sue,^" Solstice explained, simultaneously amused by how morbid the question was and concerned for Sue's increasingly weary headspace.

"Ooohhhhhhh. I see!"

Whether he actually understood what the Mayor meant was up in the air, but Sue was more than happy for that answer to put an end to further questioning. She took another step back and breathed heavily, trying to center herself with Twinkle's help. Sure, this little trip to grab fabrics hadn't been the most... serene so far, but she hoped that she'd be able to get her bearings soon and avoid adding further fuel to the dumpster fire going on under her skullcap.

Would've been nice, for a change.

Dewdrop was done with his weave soon after, giving it one last look all around before climbing off the loom and finally reaching into their makeshift storage. Sue tuned out much of the exact discussion of sizes and amounts, unfamiliar with Moonview's measuring system and hoping her mentor remembered everything Sundance had told them both. The two spiders worked together to measure and cut off the required amounts of materials. The realization that even their legs were sharp enough to effortlessly cut fabrics didn't sit quite right with her.

Around a square foot of un-dyed silk, four square feet of off-yellow linen, a thumb-sized roll of sturdy thread, and a couple of small dye pouches. If everything worked out well, these were all the ingredients needed to make one small ghost happy, the mental image warming Sue's soul. She wondered how it felt for them to be in a form like this after having lived their past life as a much more ordinary creature. Were they uncomfortable, deep down? Sue couldn't imagine them not being so, but she was uncertain about the intensity of that emotion.

Would they ever be happy like this? Would their external appearance being closer to how they remembered themselves help much? Would the outfit just be a metaphorical bandaid on top of a goring wound, momentarily helpful but ultimately only adding to all the festering sadness underneath? As with so many things, no solid answers, no way but to try their best and find out the hard way, and if that doesn't work, keep exploring other ideas.

A determination Sue was well familiar with, though which she had a hard time applying to more than the most urgent college assignments back in the day. Maybe that's what she needed, to focus on solving the issues troubling her—at least the ones that could be solved. And if only she had any idea how to 'solve' her thoughts veering into more and more unpleasant areas over the past few hours, she might've even tried to put her hypothetical solutions to action. But she didn't, and she couldn't. And so, she was forced to, yet again, distract herself.

Thankfully, an obvious tangent presented itself, one that was simultaneously apparent but which she hadn't really investigated much. How was she finding her own body after over a week? It was perfectly serviceable as far as basic locomotion went. Weaker and slower than she would've preferred when going up the stairs, sure, but walking was long solved by now. Or at least, 'solved' on a subconscious level, with what remained of her human programming having adapted to talking on two points impressively fast.

Even acknowledging that these were two points and not just feet, and that her leg anatomy was wildly different from what she once had was... unpleasant, but that didn't matter. Her legs were working, her arms were working, she could get around, she could fiddle around and occasionally embarrass herself with her psychics. She was entirely functional. How she felt about it all, how these feelings were affected by all the adjacent mental murk, including the very topic that has been gnawing at her all day—that was a secondary concern. Something to be pushed away with stimulation and distraction, swept under the rug until it solved itself.

It didn't matter. It couldn't matter. Because to acknowledge that it did was too painful to even imagine—

"That is all you asked for, right?"

Dewdrop's question provided a lifeboat Sue's mind greedily latched onto, shaking after being brought to the edge of a bottomless pit. She had no idea when exactly her eyes had grown so damp or her chest so tight, but that was something for later. Solstice's concerned glance in her direction wasn't reassuring, but the words that followed were, mostly because of their mundanity. "^It seems so, yes. Thank you, Dewdrop, Tassel. Apologies for interrupting your work.^"

The red spider shook his head off to the side, chittering slowly. "It is of no concern, Solstice. I am glad to help a little unexpected newcomer in need. They're certainly the nicer of the sudden guests lately, no doubt," he grumbled, the allusion not missed on either Forest Guardian.

The Mayor shuddered at the attention being drawn to her relatives, worry about whether they had hurt someone during their visit flashing through her mind. She interrupted her absentminded nods, sighing, "^Apologies. I hope they haven't been too much trouble today.^"

Dewdrop clicked his mandibles a few times, shaking his body to the sides in response. "If nothing else, they've at least been keeping their distance. Unpleasant as they all are, if they limit themselves to just snarls then they're not that much worse than the other reactions I've seen in Moonview throughout my stay here."

Sue winced; her mentor sighed. The older Forest Guardian was much too aware of the less-than-ideal treatment of some of her town's inhabitants for these words to affect her much. It was unpleasant, but said unpleasantness was neither new nor hard-hitting. Not anymore. Much the same was true of the Forest Guardian visitors, and Sue had already picked up on that—which shed light on an unsightly question. "Why not get rid of them? Solanum and the—the o-others..." she muttered, heart rate spiking near the end despite her best efforts to keep herself calm.

It was a good question with the same fate as almost all good questions—a disappointing answer. "^Not everyone cares about them as strongly, unfortunately...^" Solstice sighed.

Her pupil raised her eyebrow. "Even with them being this... unpleasant to be around?"

"If we banished people for being unpleasant to be around, we'd end up splintering into more groups than I can count to before the day was over," Dewdrop chuckled, the clicking sound not particularly reassuring. "It would no doubt be appropriate for that particular group, I do not disagree on that. I am not everyone, however. As many of my friends as there are that wouldn't flinch if I were to ask them to chase Solanum away themselves, there is an even larger group that simply does not care strongly enough. I suppose I understand their point—boorishness is no cause for exile in itself."

"^And that's without even mentioning the ones that still hold them in high regard...^"

Solstice's remark made Sue shudder, the idea nauseatingly offputting. For a second she wanted to raise her voice about it, press her mentor about which awful neighbors seemed it fit to hold Nightbane to a regard placed any higher than the bottom of hell... but it didn't take long for answers to trickle in. Both in the ever disappointing specifics, and in the broader groups.

Duck's chosen my fucking ass.

Trying to stop herself from getting any more upset about it, Sue just sighed, admitting defeat with a weak nod. The sight added another to Solstice's growing list of concerns about the younger Forest Guardian. Before either of them could act on it, though, Dewdrop continued the Mayor's point. "Or those that are afraid of them, even. I suppose it is much easier to just endure their visits than to stand up and do anything about them, especially with said visits being just days separated by years. Incredibly unpleasant days, days that occasionally make me wish that my kinmate who had attacked Sue would've waited a few more days for a better target... but still, only days."

"So it's just not worth the effort?" Sue asked, too tired for there to be any mockery in her voice.

"Broadly correct, yes."

The younger Forest Guardian nodded absentmindedly. As she stroked Twinkle's bag, the ghost shifted their attention from the shack to their caretaker, cloudy emotions turning to uncertainty. She doubted they were catching the emotion from her in the way the Forest Guardians did from others—that sounded like a runaway reaction in waiting. They were probably just noticing the changes in her voice, posture, even motions. All the things she could individually control when actively focusing on them, but which nonetheless slipped out of her the moment that focus ceased, or when it was time to lower her guard.

A guard that, despite having already been lowered a handful of times in the past few days, was still as high as it ever got.

"And all this is even without taking enforcement into account," Dewdrop smirked.

His words caught Sue's curiosity for just long enough to keep her thoughts afloat, naturally giving way to a question. A question that Solstice was already answering, telepathic words elaborating, "^Indeed. We've never had to descend into combat to enforce an exile in the past, and while I hope we'd be able to avoid it with Solanum and Nightbane... a part of me doubts. They may be cowards, but they're nothing if not cocky—even if they're acting on their own, without our tribe's backing. Their skill and strength wouldn't come close to offsetting the numbers disadvantage when taking all of us on, but I can't discount the possibility of them thinking it could. Ultimately, just yet another reason an exile would be a bad idea.^"

The pretend battle from a few days ago was more than enough to relegate the idea of an open combat between anyone here firmly into the category of 'nightmare fuel'. Sue certainly wasn't itching to even encourage it, but Solstice's wording still caught her attention. "They're acting on their own?"

The older Forest Guardian nodded intently, the fact almost reassuring her at least a bit. "^Indeed. Not for the others being any better, though. To the best of my knowledge, the rest of the tribe sees all this as an impure, dishonored family desperately trying to claw back their standing by either exacting revenge on me, or by taking Comet back. I'd say 'good luck with that', but... *sigh*. Best not taunt Fate.^"

With that desperation in mind, the threats Solanum had shouted earlier today felt much less harrowing. It was one thing to have an entire army threatening them with their deity's wrath; it was another to have that threat be just three people, only two of whom appearing intimidating at all. How much harm could just two people cause, after all?

...

The more Sue thought, the more she realized she really didn't want to see that question answered. She shook that idea off. "Back to the topic of exile—what about the Night Kin? Did they all just leave willingly?"

Solstice endured the hit to her psyche, only flinching for a moment before sighing, "^Thankfully, yes. I—I don't want to imagine what would've happened if they stood up and fought against that verdict, how many more lives would've been pointlessly lost...^"

"It would not have seemed pointless for them at the time, I presume," Dewdrop added.

The chilling theoretical didn't last long inside the group's minds, banished into the same dark corner of the psyche that held visions of the loved ones' deaths, be they nightmare or worse—memory. Sue was more than fine not touching that entire subject again for as long as she remained here, but... there was still a question on her mind. One that immediately arose once she'd tried imagining a similar situation in her own world. "Wouldn't there be someone to keep them from stepping foot in Moonview if they got exiled? Solanum and the rest, I mean."

The question drew the attention of the spider and the psychic, leaving both uncertain. "^Keep them from stepping foot in what way?^" the latter asked.

"If you can exile people, isn't there someone here who would enforce their exiles, or act when other laws are broken?"

I sincerely hope I'm not about to poison their minds with the concept of cops.

"I do not see why we would need that," the spider remarked, baffled at the idea. "It'd be an awful waste to lay all that on even one person, to task them with either doing nothing all day or with staring down their neighbors with a distrustful eye."

Sue knew full well that anyone in that position would end up doing much more than just these two actions, none of them good—but so did Solstice, much to her pupil's surprise. "^I believe I know what you mean. When they weren't fighting, the warriors of my tribe were tasked with 'standing guard against night kin corruption'. In practice, all they ever did was harass those less 'pure' than them and especially outsiders living nearby. Sundance has seen it play out like that on her journeys too, if memory serves. And on top of all that... we do not have formalized laws here to enforce in the first place.^"

Now that was something Sue wasn't expecting. "Really? But—but why?"

Her mentor shrugged. "^It's not a conscious decision, merely a fact. There weren't any specific laws when this settlement had started to expand from just being the dwelling of Willow's clan, and nobody since has seen it necessary to formalize a set of laws—and neither do I. We're doing fine without them. I'm guessing you—^" Solstice began before stopping herself, course correcting before Dewdrop figured out anything was amiss. "^I'm guessing your clan had a charter like that in place?^"

Her pupil nodded uncertainty, though 'charter' felt like a woefully inadequate word for the entire penal code. The Mayor continued, "^So did mine. It hasn't always had one, though. It used to be small and self-contained enough for tradition and social pressure to be enough to keep people in line, though that changed as outsiders began to move in.^"

Definitely not something Sue would associate with what she knew of Solstice's clan so far. "Th-they didn't strike me as someone particularly accepting of outsiders…"

"^They aren't, no. But their surrounding area was clear of predators, much more of it than they themselves could ever hope to use. Before long, other kin had thought to settle in that relatively safe stretch of land—and my clan figured it could take advantage of that. Take the traditions they already had, formalize them, and enforce them upon everyone living nearby. Tithes, offerings, deference towards their 'superiors', both Forest Guardian and of other kin my tribe held above theirs. A cudgel to be used against those deemed lesser, enforced at the warriors' whimsy.^"

Sue wasn't entirely sure how to react to Solstice's words. Sure, laws were absolutely chock full of clauses whose sole purpose was to either hurt people or to let the truly evil get away with a slap on the wrist. But to take a leap from that to laws being inherently unnecessary... was just a few steps too far for the once-human. "I-I'd be lying if I said that laws weren't abused where I'm from, sure, but fairly applied laws are more often used to enact justice on those that had done truly evil things. Maybe not always the most thorough justice, no, but at least some consequences."

"^Fair application sounds like it'd be a problem there,^" the older Forest Guardian chuckled.

"I-I won't say it isn't, but it's better than no laws—I think, at least. Like, without them I am unsure how does Moonview deal with, say, murder."

Sue's point got the two other adults thinking while the smaller spider and Twinkle locked eyes. Tassel was only barely following the boring adult conversation, much more curious about the kinda-bag-but-also-kinda-leech-shaped stranger. Sure, they might not have actually been sucking the psychic's blood—at least if what Mrs. Solstice said was to be believed—but they looked like they were doing it! And that was just as important! Looks were everything, after all.

Guess them waving back at the little spider looked unlike what a parasite would do, but maybe that was just another in their arsenal of tricks to blend in better? It was fun to imagine. Maybe he'd even get to befriend them sometime? He couldn't imagine what a parasite friend would end up being like, but the idea sounded cool in his head.

He'd have to ask about the stranger some time later, goodness was he tired now.

Dewdrop clicked his mandibles together as he thought. "How many instances of genuine murder have we had over the years? Three?"

"^Three sounds about correct, though I remember Daffodil's was purely accidental...^"

"Wouldn't that make it manslaughter?" Sue asked.

Solstice had to focus hard to translate the term, only arriving at 'unintentional killing', despite all her efforts. Under that definition, Sue's question was obviously true—but the mere presence of a term like that caught her attention. "^I see your language has a separate term for that.^"

Sue blinked at the remark, having a hard time conceptualizing there not being a distinction like that. "Y-yeah, of course! Wait, does that mean that the one person who had accidentally killed someone else received the same punishment as the two that did so intentionally?"

The tremble in her voice would've been amusing if the topic hadn't been as dour, forcing a weak laughter out of Dewdrop. "Of course not, Sue. We understand the difference—the two perpetrators that acted in malice were exiled shortly after, the other one... *sigh*, she eventually left on her own. Had an awfully hard time coming to terms with it or forgiving herself, even if most others were understanding."

That sounded unpleasant, indeed. Though, without there apparently being any laws here, the mention of exile still raised her eyebrow. "Who exiled them, without any laws?"

Solstice chuckled. "^Us, the elders did. We might not have an all-encompassing list of laws and punishments, but that doesn't mean we are blind to the necessity of any rules whatsoever.^"

"Do you just come up with sentencing on the spot, then?"

"^That's... an unflattering way to word that, but effectively yes. That's how it has worked since the days of Willow's clan.^"

Sue reached up to rub her forehead, not entirely certain whether she'd entirely missed the point earlier with Moonview's apparent lawlessness. "I—I suppose I don't know why not at least use those sentences as starting points for laws going forward. The way I've always seen it, the biggest reason for laws being formalized was for them to be applied fairly without being subject to biases or whims of the judges."

"^But does that formality lend itself to fairness?^" Solstice pried. "^A large reason for my hesitance is the inability to describe all the possible factors that could influence a fair judgment, even in something as simple as murder. It being an accident or not is just one intricacy. What if it is done in self-defense? What if it is intentional, but follows an extended period of abuse from the victim? What if the perpetrator was under constant psychic influence?^"

"What if the perpetrator was starving?" Dewdrop added, making the hairs on Sue's head stand on end.

All of those were valid points that Sue didn't have a single all-encompassing answer for—but what she did have was some scattered knowledge that felt appropriate. "I-I understand those concerns. I suppose thinking about it, the laws where I'm from were rather extensive for that very reason, to accommodate as many possibilities as possible and be fair with them. In theory, at least. I never knew them well, but to the best of my knowledge, every crime had a range of punishments as opposed to a single, fixed one, to account for the circumstances. I don't know—I know full well that laws where I'm from aren't ideal, but I still believe having at least a range of punishments to choose from is better than coming up with it on the spot every single time."

"^But what if punishment isn't the right answer at all? What if it would only make things worse, however reserved? I certainly don't believe there are no circumstances where it's appropriate, but it feels like too harmful a tool for many, if not most situations. Though, that specific point aside, I get your point about laws being ranges instead of exact punishments. Guidelines, perhaps. I suppose that is a good reason to have them... I'll have to think more on that point, that's for sure.^"

Neither Forest Guardian felt any more confident about their position at the end of their conversation than at its beginning—the exact opposite, if anything—but both felt good about having their reasoning be acknowledged.

Unfortunately for that entire tangent, Dewdrop still had some more thoughts to share, as well as one... unfortunate reminder. "Broad guidelines sound sensible. However, I doubt how useful they'd be for the most severe transgressions. The two murder sentences I've mentioned only happened after the crowds had already done their deed and exiled the perpetrator the hard way. All the elders' voice did was affirm Moonview's collective punishment."

...

Oh.

Solstice sighed. "^Indeed, that might be the biggest obstacle of all, in the end. It's one thing to calmly approach insults or theft, another to mediate something everyone will be feeling so strongly about.^"

"Especially when it ties into an already present prejudice," Sue added, shuddering. There were many, many more things to be said on this subject, of course. And, had she been feeling better, she might've even tried arguing for a specific position, however makeshift it was.

Alas, she wasn't, and she didn't.

The supremely uncomfortable topic of mob justice was the tipping point, finally convincing her to take a step back and recenter herself. Thankfully, Solstice didn't immediately notice, lost in the discussion with Dewdrop as the small rolls of fabric and other supplies in her hands accumulated dust.

Unfortunately for Sue, even her attempt to cool herself off wouldn't go without a hitch. A pretty massive hitch at that—almost tall enough to reach her waist, white and navy in color, and with two tails swaying idly behind her as she turned the adjacent corner.

Her outburst at Northeast had taken a step back in favor of other, even more harrowing topics for Sue to beat herself senseless about, but that didn't mean it was gone. Or even that it was any less unpleasant than it had been in the immediate aftermath of that unfortunate conversation. The young Forest Guardian shook in place as she stared at the psychic cat, fully aware of what she should be doing—solving that entire mess. The solution was right in front of her, so blatantly clear her brain didn't even hesitate before screeching 'GO APOLOGIZE TO HER' at full blast.

After all, she'd already done it once with Basil, someone she'd been much more viscerally scared of. Why not do that with someone that came off as almost comically harmless? Looks were deceiving and all that; she had no idea how dangerous Northeast actually was—but it didn't matter. She wasn't scary in a way the lovable-in-hindsight giant bee had been.

This was so fucking easy; the solution to this entire mess was just a few dozen feet away—and yet, that exact fact made it all the more difficult. Because she already had a chance yesterday to take that objectively correct, straightforward action, and she didn't. She was too much of a coward to do it then, and her psyche wouldn't let her forget that, reminding her of her past failures.

With each mental reminder, doing what needed to be done in the present only grew harder and harder—and that was without accounting for all the other insecurities, more than eager to cut in and remind her of Solstice's past words. Past words, past feelings, all the feelings and things unsaid that had been brewing between them as long as they'd known each other. They were only beginning to truly take form, terrifying in how alluring they were. A dream come true when imagined,

A living nightmare when used as an example of something she wasn't worthy of.

Because she wasn't, of course she wasn't. She was standing there like an idiot, on the verge of tears at the thought of the most basic of courtesies instead of going and finally doing it. She couldn't; she was too tired, too weak, too pathetic. Just what in the world would Solstice think, what would Aurora thi—

...

The emotional shift in the person she was simultaneously fixated on and terrified of shook Sue out of her anxious spiral. She almost gasped as she focused on what she was seeing, almost ran when she realized Northeast was looking at her over her shoulder. Sue couldn't sense any emotions accompanying that display, certainly no hostility—and yet, it was too much. She had to get away from there, and she had to do it now.

Without waiting for Solstice, Sue shuddered before awkwardly turning around on the spot and walking away, leg in too rough a state to permit even jogging. Nothing but a slow, pathetic shamble, only her and the ghost wrapped around her chest.

For a moment, she tried to focus on Twinkle as a source of reassurance, lifting her hand towards them and letting them grasp it as tight as they could—but even that backfired soon. It was one thing to take comfort in the hauntling's trust, but it was something else entirely for even that to fall apart under the crushing pressure of 'why?' Why did Twinkle trust her like they did?

She had no answer, and even thinking about it veered into the awful realization that their trust, their care, was unfounded. Yet another being she had manipulated into caring for her, yet another soul that would no doubt leave her alone if they truly knew just what kind of rot sat at the center of her—

"^Sue?^"

Solstice's alarmed voice finally snapped her pupil out of the ever tightening loathing—for a moment, at least. If nothing else, it nudged Sue to keep her self-hatred under control—she didn't want to subject Solstice to all the junk in her head.

Noble as the idea was, it ran into the immediate issue of Solstice being subjected to all the junk in her head anyway.

The older Forest Guardian wanted to say something, needed to say something, bring the reassurance her pupil so obviously needed. It wasn't difficult on its own. Mistakes happened; there was no reason for Sue to be so harsh to herself, yadda yadda. But then, she finally made it to the catalyst behind all those comparisons, the spark that had set the garbage fire in motion—and realized she had no idea how to stop it.

For it was burning inside her, too.

And so, the older Forest Guardian limited herself to weakly patting Sue on the shoulder as they headed off back to Sundance's dwelling in silence, their respective murk feeding off each other. It was the simplest thing in the world to just stop and be adults and go over what they were feeling and why they were hurting so much. Something that would've been, if not trivial, then at least easier in any other circumstances, if it had been caused by any other reason.

By anyone else's ghost weighing heavy on both women's souls.

Their silent march, only occasionally interrupted by a sniffle or by Twinkle's quiet whimper, didn't last long. Before they knew it, they were already making it up the stairs to the vixen's dwelling with lesser or greater difficulty, only realizing that Sundance had another guest seconds before they stepped in. And while Solstice didn't mind seeing that particular visitor... Sue wished it had been anyone but her.

The bouquet medic perked up as she watched the two Forest Guardians step back in, wrapping up her examination of the fiery vixen ahead of schedule. "Ah, greetings, dear Solstice—and Sue! I thought it appropriate to check up on Sundance considering her state as recently as yesterday, but since I have the opportunity... would you mind me taking a closer look, Sue?"

Sundance was presently sharpening what looked like a large needle with a whetstone, rolling her eyes at Orchid's concern. She was about to speak up in response—but kept her words to herself in the end, the ones responsible for that choice visible in plain sight as they napped, snuggled up in her fur. As comforting as seeing the asleep Comet, Joy and Spark was, Sue knew she had to respond eventually, giving up with a weak nod.

"Wonderful! Pardon my concern; yesterday was intense for everyone, you most of all," Orchid sighed. As she got closer, Sue sensed the hesitation in her. Too weak to be off-putting, but present all the same. "I have to say, your... display was certainly touching and effective. More flashy than would've been preferable, perhaps, but I suppose all our mistakes have to be brought to light eventually, and that was no exception."

Sue wanted to writhe as the medic examined her; the intent of her comment missed entirely with all the murk plaguing her mind. As far as her self-sadistic psyche was concerned, there was only one thing Orchid might've been referring to, a mistake Sue has had two chances to bring to light now, but haven't yet. Sundance noticed the festering loathing and Sue knew she had, but neither of them wanted to bring it all up. Not with Orchid around, not with Solstice.

Preferably never.

"You appear to be doing perfectly well, fatigue aside! Always a relief to see," Orchid exclaimed, genuine to the best of Sue's ability to tell. "Thank you most graciously for having me, but now I must bid you all—"

As unnerving as seeing anyone else pause mid-sentence would've been, seeing it happen to the plant-like healer of all people took those gathered even further aback. It didn't last long, Orchid soon collecting herself as she passed a concerned glance towards everyone in the room. While Sue immediately assumed the worst, resuming earlier beatings about not having apologized to Northeast, the other two women were keen to hear what was up—and their curiosity was answered soon after. "Before I leave, I must ask—have any of you seen or heard of Snowdrop's present whereabouts?"

Sue paused her self-loathing for just long enough to go through her memories, not finding anything featuring the floating icy performer ever since seeing her in Newmoon a couple of days ago. The other two psychics were similarly clueless, adding to Orchid's distress, however veiled. "Most unfortunate. I have not heard a word about anyone having seen her since yesterday morning. She had missed her practice session with the rest of her team, something I've been told hadn't ever happened before. I'm certainly not suspecting the worst, not yet, but... an indubitably worrisome situation."

A weak shudder went through the young Forest Guardian at the thought of something having happened to Snowdrop, especially with Newmoon's exile finally undone. She tried not to worry about it too much, especially with her utter inability to do anything about it or even meaningfully contribute to any eventual searches for her, but... easier said than done.

As was almost everything.

"I have hope the situation will resolve itself, still. Farewell, Solstice, Sue, Sundance."

Contrary to the hopes of those gathered, Orchid's departure didn't clear up the atmosphere any. Solstice wordlessly dropped off the crafting supplies, seemingly trying to keep her distance away from Sue as they both shuddered in silence.

Sundance's eyebrow was raised as high as it ever got, the tension in the air thick enough to carve with a chisel and uncomfortable enough for her to have to focus on keeping Comet from waking up. The vixen looked at Sue, then at Solstice, opening her mouth to ask what was going on—only for the Mayor to get ahead of her. "^I-I think I need to go clear my head.^"

Neither her friend nor her pupil commented as the Mayor turned straight towards the door and headed out, taking her share of dread with her as she passed by Sue. The two Forest Guardians didn't dare look each other in the eye, afraid of what they would end up finding there.

The words that followed helped little, woofed out as quietly as the vixen could manage. "Do you want to talk about something, Sue?"

I want to run until I can't anymore.

Sue tried her best to weigh the offer, attempting to distill the murk in her mind into a single topic she could talk about with Sundance—but she couldn't. It was too scattered, too festered, so sensitive to being examined that it threatened to make her break down there and then. Her logical brain reminded her she wouldn't be able to run from it forever, to which her emotional brain responded with ear-piercing screeching.

She was just too weak for that right now. "I-I don't know, I... I-I think I could use a walk, too..."

Her words were barely louder than whimpers, striking a wellspring of Sundance's concern—one the vixen got under her own control shortly after. There was only one person who knew when Sue would be ready to talk again, and that was the Forest Guardian herself. It was not the vixen's place to rush her. And so, she didn't, firmly nodding before responding, "That is perfectly fine, Sue. Considering just who's creeping around Moonview, though, I advise you to stick to someone as you walk, just in case."

The last thing Sue needed was a reminder that even going out for a walk wasn't as safe an option as she wanted it to be, but the vixen's point was valid. "S-sure, just... l-like, follow someone?"

"Yes, that is what I had in mind. Before you leave," Sundance spoke up, catching her pupil right as she was about to grab the door handle, "would you want to leave Twinkle with me?"

A voice deep inside Sue's soul cried out, 'NO!' at the idea, so attached to the little ghost that the thought of even temporarily leaving them stung fiercely. Said voice was being drowned by a waterfall of mental sludge, however, reduced to a whisper surrounded by a tornado of self-loathing, a tornado that was ambivalent about the idea. Guess it ultimately wouldn't hurt—Twinkle didn't deserve to have to deal with her like this, after all. "S-Sure."

With the ghost untied and passed over, too confused and worried to do much more than withdraw at the realization, Sue finally turned towards the door and left without saying another word. The spot on her chest felt weird, downright cold without Twinkle's constant presence there—but it was the last thing on her mind as the door closed behind her.

Because now there was nothing and nobody left to stop her from diving all the way into the abyss of her thoughts.

No matter how hard she'd been trying to not think about them, to pretend they weren't there, that she was just misrepresenting them... Solstice's maternal thoughts towards her were there, they had been all along. Bright and warm and anxious and conflicted, breeding further conflict inside Sue even at the best of times. Even without doubt and insecurity choking her mind, the very idea stirred dread about what her actual human mom would think about that.

And, even more importantly, what Aurora would think.

This wasn't fair to either of them, of course it wasn't! The former would've been devastated knowing her daughter just abandoned her like that for some alien, and the latter... would be *furious*, the kind of furious that stirred vengeful ghosts from their eternal slumber. Her mother, her family, her place in life, her house, all up for not just being stolen, but stolen by a clueless, idiotic alien that barely knew what was happening all the time and was woefully inadequate for the other half.

And that's without mentioning said alien also being too much of a coward to even apologize for shouting at a child.

Sue tried to think back to yesterday's chat with Sundance, tried to clear the mental hurricane for just long enough to figure out if all this was something she truly wanted, if she really reciprocated Solstice's occasional feelings towards her deep down—and she couldn't answer. Even with all her focus, the mirror of her soul was just too unclear, smeared by bile of knowing how unfair it'd be to her mom and Aurora alike, the mere thought of how hurt they'd be stabbing Sue through the heart.

Solstice herself seeming to grow more eager at the idea with each passing day only made that pain worse. Her remark about how Sue had earned the Pale Lady's blessings was a splinter digging itself deeper and deeper into Sue's mind, painful enough to where even acknowledging it drove her to tears. She kept trying to not think about it. To seal it away with reminders of none of it being really meant for her, reminders of this not being her world, her religion, her true body, doing anything in her power to just endure it until it finally left,

But she couldn't.

It hurt so incredibly much, this scar at the bottom of her mind. The pain was made even worse by knowing just how selfish she was, how unfair, how unworthy of it all, sending her physically wincing each time she inevitably ended up circling back around to that mental splinter. She couldn't stop it. She didn't want to stop it.

Because there was that tiny, battered part of her, deep inside, that did want it all. And Sue wanted her dead, wanted it all to finally stop hurting—

*rattle, rattle*

The nearby sound was loud and grating enough to snap Sue back to reality, distracting her from her aching body, bleeding soul, and tearful eyes. She watched the red insectoid robot pass by her, the woven baskets they carried in each arm full of sawdust and finger-sized scraps of wood. They paid her no mind, but she needed them more than ever. She remembered Sundance's guidance about sticking with someone before straightening herself out and trying to follow them. Where to, she didn't know. It didn't matter.

Lead me wherever you may, robot bug.

Anywhere but here.



Author's Note:
Sorry for taking an extra week for this one, mental health sure is a thing that can just punch you in the gut sometimes--as seen by Sue. Her struggles weren't directly inspired by mine or anything, but it's always a treat when fiction and reality align 🫠

In better news: A whole lotta new illustrations! Check out Chapters 6, 8, and 22 for the new illustrations made by a whole lot of talented artists!

In good-but-not-as-exciting news: The entire story has been updated with another editing pass. While small parts of older chapters might still be tweaked when it comes to word choice and such, there shouldn't be any more large changes anymore--at last, I have arrived at a Normal Person Writing Style:tm:



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
Chapter 30: Mercy


Chapter 30: Mercy



Sue didn't expect the bug robot to lead her away from Moonview, but figured it still fit what she had wordlessly asked them for.

The road was narrow but reasonably well worn. Not the kind with daily overwhelming traffic, but which was established enough to stand out from the surrounding grass and shrubs. Where did it lead to, why was the bug robot heading there, and why were they carrying all this wood in their baskets? Those questions were preferably for someone else to answer.

She already had her fair share of pointless thoughts filling her mind.

To Sue's dismay, a change of surroundings helped less than she would've wanted. She appreciated the most acutely painful thoughts easing up, but getting rid of all this crushing pressure, of ceaseless comparisons, and of suffocating inadequacy would've been nice, too. Alas, none of that—so sayeth her broken soul.

She would've appreciated an opportunity to choke said soul into silence, just like she'd done time and again. Alas, she wouldn't be finding it yet—for there was something else to focus on at the moment. Something just as silly and pathetic on the surface, just as threatening to shake her very foundations if she dug into it too much.

Probably not the best distraction all in all, but it was the one she was stuck with now.

As off-putting as Justice and Its intrusion into her dream has been, it was hard to deny that Its vision had left an impact on her. Even despite just how worryingly unclear it was. The basics were straightforward—she had been doing well so far, but there was still more left to do. Oh, and the stupid three-eyed thing had a chip on Its shoulder at being accused of lying, too.

The specifics were where it got... tricky, however. Tricky enough to where Sue was of half a mind to just discard this entire topic, just like she'd done after waking up. To consign it to the pile of 'deities being dumb'. Alas, her mind really needed this distraction. And so, here she was again, pondering the exact associations of the mental image of the fucking Moon falling down onto her.

Come on you dumb mortal, you simple pawn in our quaint game of Ludo—think! Figure out this oh-so-intricate puzzle of mine, dance for my amusement and do my chores while you're at it!

With everything they had meddled with, in her personal experiences and Moonview's history alike, Sue wished to never see another deity again. Both because of them only ever using her like a tool for their own means, again and again, and because of a... different reason, one that reinvigorated her mind to think about. Even if just for a moment.

As awful as Sue had been and was still feeling, her realization from yesterday remained true. She didn't want to go back to Earth. And even if she had a hard time thinking herself worthy of staying here right now, that didn't change her underlying desires. With that realization, she grew much more keen on actually figuring out what in the world that Justice entity wanted—and then doing the exact opposite. Anything to sabotage Its plans.

Anything to not have to go back.

Alas, her pursuit of optimal contrarianism was undermined by Its plans being incomprehensible. Literal interpretation was one approach, in which case she was already all good—no way in hell was she gonna be protecting anything and anyone from the falling Moon.

Mission solved! It was time to rest on her laurels and start thinking how she would spend the rest of her life in a mutated animal wonderland.

...

...

I mean, a girl can wish.

Sue's pitiful chuckle was lost in the noise of shuffling grass and distant, ever-intensifying clacking. By her own admission, she knew little—especially when it came to this incoherent world—but even she was positive her dream wasn't meant to be taken literally. Not with both deities involved in her task, and their villages, being associated with the Moon.

To the best of her recollection, the Moon that fell down on her at the end of that dream was full. Full, massive, blinding in its radiance. Downright oppressive, even long before it had actually crashed into—

The metallic insect ahead of her paused mid-step at Sue's gasp of realization. Their gaze lingered on her for one moment, then another, until finally the weird Forest Guardian got over her shock and resumed her slow march again, letting her impromptu bodyguard continue, too.

There was something—someone else she'd run into recently that had felt just as oppressive, after all. Three someones, to be exact.

The connection chilled Sue's body to think about, even after she forced herself to keep moving again. It fit too well, but its implications were worrisome, no matter the way she tried to interpret it. If Justice intentionally drew her attention to them, that meant they were important for some reason. Her imagination didn't shy away from suggesting the many ways in which their presence in Moonview could prove important, all of them tying into either murder, kidnapping, or—or worse.

Even with the Moon figured out, the question of what she was supposed to do about it, what she was supposed to do about them, remained. The answer her mind immediately gravitated to was simple—she had to stop them. Whether from all the horrible things she had just thought about, or from something even worse, it didn't matter. Whatever they had in mind, whatever they had come here for, they had to be stopped. But how?

If her earlier chat with Dewdrop was any sign, Solanum and the rest of Solstice's relatives weren't liked in Moonview. The same, unfortunately, couldn't be said about them being respected or worshiped—but at the very least, nobody was angling to be their friend. If the worst came to pass and they decided they wouldn't be satisfied unless blood did spill, they were extremely outnumbered. And that was if they got over the cowardice that Solstice had mentioned.

But what if they were to be stopped in a more abstract way? What if they had to be exiled, or chased out, or even just had their rotten ideology be questioned and replaced by Solstice's quote unquote "heresy"? Sue didn't know, and it terrified her.

Solanum unnerved her; Nightbane made her want to run and never turn back. The third yellow one, Solstice's father if she remembered correctly... she didn't know what was up with him, but he was just as suspicious as the other two. Solstice's reminder that they wouldn't dare strike while so outnumbered rang hollow as she thought back to Nightbane's predatory, hungry glare, the way he stared at her like a trophy to be taken after a successful pillage. Especially since, even if they would be ultimately defeated, they would still hurt and kill many before they'd be stopped.

And that assumed it would be just these three.

Sue almost let out another gasp at the realization she didn't even know if these three were here on their own. They apparently only ever visited in the past on their own and weren't thought of highly amongst their people in the first place, but… who was to say this would be like those past occasions?

No matter whether it was just these three or their entire tribe, she couldn't let whatever they were planning happen. She had no idea how to do that, or any confidence whether trying to be watchful of them would even accomplish anything, however. She'd have to drill into Solstice and Sundance and everyone she could reach to watch out for them. To make sure that someone is keeping track of them and knows what they're up to as long as they remain in Moonview, and—

...

And everything else that would ultimately only fulfill what Justice wanted her to do. That would 'complete' her task here, or at least bring it closer to completion. To bring on her 'reward' of being thrown back to Earth, alone once more, with this entire world becoming nothing but a hazy memory.

With everyone here ceasing to exist, as far as her continued existence was concerned.

The realization drove a rusted nail into Sue's heart, but she refused to scream. It... hurt. She couldn't even pretend that it didn't, that it wouldn't if she were to complete her task here. At the end of the day, however, it was her continued fantasy being weighed against the wellbeing of everyone else here, in either village or even beyond. She didn't have a leg to stand on, and she wouldn't even pretend to. She'd do what was right, even if it took carving her heart out to accomplish that.

It took immense effort for Sue to maintain her composure. Her steps lost their cadence, her clenched fist shook something intense; even the steadily building distant noises were making her jump more and more. And yet, she persisted regardless, keeping the hurt well-hidden, hiding it from the judging eyes of a single insectoid robot that wasn't even looking in her direction. It wasn't even about being seen, after all.

It was about having earned the right to that hurt.

A change in mental topic was in short order, but... there was one connection she'd realized just now, shocking enough to briefly freeze her dread where it lay. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but stunned silence inside her. As she was recalling everything she knew about Solstice's relatives, any shred of her limited knowledge that would help her and others stop whatever they were planning, a... peculiar detail popped up. One offhandedly conveyed by the fiery vixen a few days prior.

Solanum and the rest of her rotten ilk lived over of a week away on foot—and yet, they were here the very morning after Justice's warning.

The contradiction was stark, starker still with the most obvious answer for it getting dismissed out of hand. If them venturing all the way here was tied to Sue having showed up all those days ago, they wouldn't have acted the way they have. They disrespected her, sure, but she was just a footnote compared to all the ire and dismay they held towards their relative. They came here for Solstice, for Comet, not for Sue.

Which, of course, raised an obvious question. Why did they arrive here on this specific day? How did Justice know they would show up? Sure, Solanum and others arriving here might've just been a Fateful accident; the two facts could've been entirely unrelated, merely a stroke of cosmic un-luck—Sue wasn't buying that, though. Not for a second.

After all, Justice was awfully shy to actually name the deity that had supposedly brought her here—

*buzz, buzz?*

The bug robot's words snapped Sue out of her increasingly unhinged train of thought, bringing her back to the surrounding reality. A wild, terrifying reality, one that featured psychics and ghosts and beasts of fire, of lightning, of ice. Dragons, gods, and awful relatives alike.

One where the builder was staring down at her, confused, from approximately two feet away.

Their confused emotions were muffled, taking Sue aback once she'd tried to focus on them. Sure, not everyone expressed their emotions—or even felt them—as strongly as others, but the red bug's feelings were especially hard to make out. With most people, it was like she could feel their emotions by touch, be they smooth and silky or spiky and fiery-hot. Here, though, it was as if she was trying to do so through a blanket.

Or, in night kin's case, through a brick wall.

Sue tried to gather words, uneasy at the sudden confrontation. As they buzzed on to an audience of effectively nobody, their uncertainty steadily waned, turning into relief. By the time she remembered to focus on establishing a connection with them, however, they were already done, turning away and heading off in the middle of her makeshift ritual.

At least they feel better after getting whatever that was off their chest.

Embarrassed and not wanting to be left behind, Sue scooted ahead, wincing at her injured leg as she caught up with them. She didn't have to run for long, though—they had arrived.

The sizable clearing was split between a few areas, a few of which she could make out from its entrance. To her right laid what appeared to be a quarry, a wound in the earth stretching for a few dozen meters, showing off bare soil and light-colored rock at the bottom. A dozen or so blocks of stone were roughly lined up beside the quarry's exit ramp, raw and uncut. From the thudding steps and light taps, Sue could tell there was someone in there working on the next block, but her view was obscured by the nearby cliff.

Further along, past that quarry, laid another excavation. It was much shallower than the first one, only uncovering silvery dirt as opposed to stone. Its significance wasn't immediately apparent, but if the fenced-off stretch of drying bricks and tiles next to it was any sign, the 'dirt' was actually clay.

As nice as it felt to figure out where in the world all the neat bricks and tiles in Moonview were coming from, the rest of the clearing wasn't as... straightforward to examine. The last of its many attractions looked by far the most industrial, a complex setup of several water basins, sieves, piles of various plant materials, and free-standing, barren walls.

It was overwhelming, but the bug robot was here to explain it all—or at least to demonstrate what its purpose was. They first lifted the nearest basin from what had initially looked like a pedestal but turned out to be a charcoal fired furnace, and placed it down further along the clearing. They then grabbed the basin that was already laying there and brought it back to the furnace. No matter what this entire process entailed, Sue was... unsure whether having the water inside the second basin be as murky as it had been was a good idea—it wasn't her place to judge, either way.

...

Not competently judge, at least.

With the basin set down, they began to toss charcoal into the furnace, one pincer-ful at a time. Freed from her duty to gawk at anything even remotely interesting going on around her, Sue walked the last few feet to a fallen log beside the clearing's entrance, its top side being stripped of bark signaling its purpose. The small basket of goodies—mostly roasted fruit slices and thick crackers—beside it hinted at this being some sort of break area as well. Sue wasn't sure if she was hungry right now, but even if she was, there was no way in hell she'd be caught stealing from someone else's lunchbox.

Especially with that someone else being a six-foot-tall red robot that, for all she knew, was already only barely putting up with her stalking them.

The robot's charcoal-pouring duty was interrupted a couple times by them flinching at a particularly loud sound coming from the quarry. For the most part, the clacking of stone against stone had a steady, rhythmic pace to it, but sometimes it would slow down, each strike turning so powerful Sue could feel it going through her body.

Seems excavating all this stone is a lotta effort even with magical powers.

Even with the ground shaking and their hands busy, the person inside the quarry was still eager to chit chat some, speaking up before the next round of clacking noises began. Their rumbling growls echoed through the clearing, perking the robot's head up. Sue wasn't having any more luck with understanding them than she usually did, but she... recognized them, she thought. Where from, and what did they mean, she had no idea, but she could've sworn she had heard them before.

As the stranger and the tall bug chatted on, the latter wrapped up fueling the furnace, capping it off with a small bundle of kindling. They then picked up a couple of pieces of flint and got to work, chipping the stone and raining sparks over their body and the ground alike as they got some fire going.

It didn't take long.

With the flames building up and the clacking resuming, the bug turned to the baskets of wood they had brought with themselves. Sawdust was unceremoniously tossed straight into the basin, but the larger chunks had to be broken down first, unceremoniously crushed between the robot's pincers along the grain. Wood wasn't the hardest material out there, but the ease with which they reduced chunk after chunk to splinters with their bare hands was... impressive. Quite terrifying, too, but definitely impressive.

Even with all the wood added, the robot's job there wasn't done yet, however. They began making rounds between piles and jars of ingredients lining the edges of the clearing, scooping a pincerful of each material before breaking it apart and adding it to the wooden broth. Some of them Sue could recognize well enough—cotton, inner layers of bark, branches of hemp. Others were tricker to figure out, though, such as what looked like shredded rags, or an unknown white powder. They only grabbed a small pile of the latter, but whatever it was, it still stung Sue's eyes, even from a distance.

Suppose this answers why all this isn't closer to Moonview.

All the ingredients were added, which just left stirring the off-white soup—and calling for help. The bug's whistle was closer to a car alarm going off than any sound Sue thought could be made by a living being, but it was all the more successful because of that. The ear-piercing noise was followed by a loud call, finally beckoning the robot's assistant over. Unfortunately.

Sue held in a groan at seeing the pink bat scorpion yet again, putting her utmost effort into not letting her dissatisfaction show on her face. Sure, they might have apologized for Joy getting hurt, but if they thought that would be enough to get themselves off her shit list, they were sorely mistaken. After all, they still had done it, right? They still thought it would be oh-so-funny to hurt a little girl who could barely talk, to bully her so much their mere sight had her clinging to her guardian. Joy might have forgiven them, but Sue hadn't.

And she wasn't terribly fond of that fact.

As vivid as that kind of righteous anger felt, Sue was well aware she wasn't in the right anymore—assuming she'd ever been in the first place. Yes, they had hurt someone and didn't reconcile until prompted by someone else, but... was she literally any better? Hell, if anything, she was worse because of being one apology behind. She didn't have a moral leg to stand on, and she was well aware.

And yet, she still had a hard time not feeling angry towards them. She caught herself leering at them, even as they harmlessly talked with the robot before dashing off to the basin the bug had previously removed from the furnace. She had to forcibly pry her eyes away as they went on about their day, stirring the water in the basin before submerging a large sieve in it and giving it a hearty shake.

She was being fucking pathetic.

Thankfully, this time, she at least caught her thoughts before they could spiral all the way out. Good as coming here might've been for escaping from her self-destructive thoughts, focusing on the bat threatened to undo all that tenuous progress. She didn't want to, or even really could, make it back to Moonview on her own, which just left a stroll around the clearing. Away from the bat, away from the guilt. Preferably, away from her own brain, too.

With an exasperated sigh, Sue stood back up and turned towards the quarry half of the clearing, trying to focus on anything but her thoughts. The terrain here was much more uneven than back at the village, interspersing the already demanding walk with occasional grunts of pain when she had to put a lot of force on her injured leg. A footnote compared to everything else going on, though.

The intense, brief shock that went through the bat—no doubt at having spotted her—didn't help either.

Now that she was walking along the quarry's edge, she could actually make out the being working there. Good news was that she recognized them—or rather, her. Bad news was that she still remembered Kantaro's warning about not interrupting the blue bipedal rhino, Daisy, pushing her towards keeping even more distance between each other. Sure, she didn't want to fall in and hurt herself, but what she didn't want even more was to inconvenience someone else and have them grow annoyed at her. Nightmare fuel, that.

Still, that didn't mean she wasn't curious about how the elderly builder worked. Daisy's tools weren't as distinguished as those Sue had seen others use in Moonview proper, but she was making it work all the same. A stick of charcoal, what seemed to be a wooden level, a long, pointed rock, much darker than the surrounding stone, and finally, her own body.

Sue always wondered how blocks of stone were cut out from the surrounding material—at least, before industrial tooling—and the rhino was set to give her a demonstration of just that. The outline of the desired block was drawn on the stone in charcoal, the black line clearly visible on the light stone. Or, at least, the parts of it that hadn't already been dotted with cracks and indentations, both along the sketched lines and where the block connected to the surrounding stone. Daisy's chisel held steady as she hammered it along the remaining edges with her bare hand, each strike hard enough to either make or deepen the cracks in the rock.

Wherever she could reach, however, she preferred to use her all-natural tool instead. Sue would've guessed that using her horn for this would be excruciating—or at the very least, a recipe for repeated concussions—and yet, the builder managed without a care in the world, swiftly wrapping up the block's outline with a few well-aimed strikes. Her horn glowing throughout that entire process gave Sue a pause, but what did she know? Maybe that was the secret to her not shattering her hea d open with all the forces involved.

Fun as all this has been to watch, there was a walk to be done. With a deep breath, Sue refocused on the treacherous path ahead and resumed her walk, expecting the chipping sounds to resume shortly after—

*RUMBLErumblerumble...*

The world shook for just a second, but that second was enough to swipe any balance from underneath her. Sue shrieked as she tumbled, half-grabbing and half slamming into a nearby tree to remain upright. The rough bark dug into her skin and she was quite sure it had left a scrape or two, but other than that and the ringing in her ears, she seemed to be alright.

The trees had not failed her once more.

The alarmed noises going on from behind her didn't help, though. The robot bug's call was aimed in her direction, its harshness unnerving. Before she could react, it was joined by another call, one much more obviously alarmed and from much closer. Still remembering Kantaro's remark, Sue slowly turned around towards Daisy—and only saw warm, genuine concern on her face. Beside her, an uneven stone block, successfully separated from the surrounding wall.

Sue didn't know how to react, gaze snapping between the blue builder, her recent efforts, and her red coworker in the distance. She shouldn't be here and she knew it, the thought chilling despite nobody else being visibly angry or anything. What they were, though, was uncertain, and her lack of response sure wasn't helping that any.

Daisy knew what to do, though. Rambling on in her low grumbles and growls, she lifted her hand and beckoned Sue over before pointing toward the seat the Forest Guardian had just gotten up from minutes earlier. It was the clearest instruction Sue'd be getting here, and with the lack of any hostility—or even annoyance—she didn't hesitate before following along.

Once she'd sat down, she watched the blue dino climb out of the quarry and approach her, bestial laughter interrupting her every other sentence. It was quite a contrast to Sue's motionless, silent self, too stuck in a bind between not wanting to cause further trouble, being apologetic, and dealing with a metric shitton of nasty thoughts to even acknowledge the builder's thoughts.

Daisy didn't mind though—she knew just how to handle this. She grabbed the entire basket of goodies and sat down beside the fallen log, sending aftershocks as she impacted the ground. She then pulled out a hearty, pear-like fruit for herself and passed on a few thick crackers to Sue, before finally leaning back and relaxing some.

Guess a snack won't hurt.

The treat was much thicker than any biscuit she ever had back on Earth, closer to an unleavened flatbread or hard tack than a digestive. That didn't mean it wasn't tasty, though—not by a long shot. Salty with a hint of vinegar and an herbal aroma, the perfect junk food to turn one's brain off to, if only for a minute. And, alas, a minute was all that Sue would get before Daisy got to gesturing again, this time drawing a line in the air between Sue's head and her own.

Here goes nothing.

Pushing through the combined effects of her emotional discomfort, aching in her horn, and hesitation, Sue went through her little ritual, hands weaving through the air as she manipulated the extension of her mind. She was growing so used to all this that it began to obscure just how fascinating having those abilities was. Not something to ponder on here and now, though.

After controlling her mental tentacle with enough grace for Daisy to not even flinch at the connection being established, Sue took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, firmly nodding towards the blue rhino. "Hear ya?" Daisy asked, her accent clear despite the less than ideal translation. It raised the question of whether said accent was coming from her or if Sue's recollection of their brief chat was affecting how she was understanding the builder.

A question that would go unanswered for the time being. "Yes, yes, I can hear you," Sue answered, rolling her shoulders as she prepared to be... questioned, she guessed.

"Good! What with ya, girl? Not look like anywhere walk person. No light, anger, power like yesterday."

What was up with Sue indeed.

She didn't piece every single detail of Daisy's question, but the thrust was clear—and the answers were muddled. "It's—it's been a lot, *sigh*. I've... I've done things I regret, and now they just won't let go of me, and I can't stop thinking about them."

The hefty bipedal rhino pensively nodded at Sue's conundrum, raising her paw towards her chin as if to rest her head on it—only to just scratch her chin and chuckle out, "Mistakes ya make? Everyone make mistakes, girl. I make four, all days! Bad measure, rough cut. Much thinking on them never help. Drink, another measure, another cut, recover all can."

It was a delightfully simple response to Sue's worries, one that—had she been feeling any better already—she would've tried to take. But she wasn't, and she didn't, and considering the details of what she'd done, it wouldn't even be appropriate here. "It wasn't just some measuring mistake though, I-I hurt someone—"

*buzz-buzz?*

The metallic noise cut Sue's murmurs off, yanking her and Daisy's attention towards the robot bug that had since moved to stand in front of them. As Sue reeled back from their sudden presence here, the blue builder continued, unamused. "Nah Chisel, not good way. It—pardon. Sue girl, hear Chisel can?"

The Forest Guardian blinked at being addressed, connecting the dots soon after. At last, the robot had been baptized with a name, and assuming Sue could repeat her earlier feat with Splitleaf and Basil, she'd be finally able to hear from them herself. Another moment of concentration, another mental tendril, right beside the first one and aimed at the red builder. Reaching their mind proved much trickier than Sue had anticipated, tying into her earlier difficulties with sensing their emotions. She'd have to ask Sundance or... probably just Sundance right now when she got back.

But that was then—and now it was time to keep chatting. "I-I think I have it now," Sue muttered, keeping the aching in her horn at bay with stable breathing. "Hello, Chisel."

"Greetings," the robot insect answered. Her voice was no less choppy and compressed-sounding even with translation, but at least the mood and gender were easier to tell now—calm and feminine, respectively. "Realize you deaf me earlier. Correct?"

Sue reeled at Chisel's words before realizing she probably didn't mean 'deaf' in a literal way. That would've been... impressive to do on accident, if utterly terrifying and disgusting on every level. Maybe she meant Sue was the deaf one? She wasn't and hoped she'd never be, but considering her lack of reaction to the last time the robot bug had attempted to talk to her, she could understand why she'd think so.

"I didn't understand you when we were walking here, yeah," Sue admitted. She watched as Chisel took a deep sigh at that, her emotions muffled enough for her earlier uncertainty to have only become noticeable now after it'd changed into relief.

"Fortunate. Considering, then: Greetings again. I, Chisel. I, others, everyone—thank you, yesterday for."

The fluster at being thanked so directly didn't undo her worries or anxiety, but it shone beautifully for the few seconds it decorated her cheeks. The moment of thick silence that followed left her unsure if either of the two builders was expecting her to say something in return, sending Sue's brain wracking to come up with something to fill the air—

But Daisy had her back. "Aye, mighty thanks, Sue. As I saying Chisel—not good idea. If weigh good to avoid bad, no relief. Just hide bad. Just let bad get dirty. Dirty, nasty, shameful. Have clean it, have look it, have responsibility. Use it, not let bad beat you with it."

Sue wouldn't have even dreamed of using the arguable few good things she'd done to pretend she'd done nothing wrong. She wasn't the best person, but she wasn't that, and not a small part of her insecurity over making things right was to make sure she would never become someone like that. The messaging about pride being a sin she'd heard during the mass when she was little might've all been consciously forgotten by now, but its associations haven't.

And if only Sue's mind saw it fit to end that tangent there and then, she could've had some comfort in not being that person—but it didn't. Of course it didn't, it couldn't, because that kind of thinking was precisely a part of the problem. If she took relief in that, that'd just be letting her pride in being good once more offset her wicked deeds. There was no relief, no mercy to be found within that mental thread, and it hurt.

But she'd bear through it.

Instead of acknowledging just how far her psyche was willing to stretch to have another sin to jot down, Sue focused on another part of Daisy's answer, one far more unequivocally bad. "But what if you do have a chance to fix it, to take responsibility, and you just mess it up again? O-or you get too afraid to even take that chance, and the problem remains unfixed?"

"Hah!" Daisy chuckled. "Sound like another mistake!"

Correct.

"Which mean, have to fix too. Just another measure, another cut, again. Like any mistake. Look close, think what wrong, next chance. On, onward!"

Not the answer Sue thought she'd hear, and not one she cared for, either. It sounded much too... simplistic, dismissive of the underlying issue that this was about people and not slabs of rock. "This isn't about mining or crafting something wrong though, this—I hurt someone and I haven't apologized. It's not like I can 'just' fix that; I had my chance to apologize to her, and I blew it."

"Unfortunate," Chisel muttered. Off in the distance behind her, all the chatter was steadily distracting the pink bat out of their task, but nobody noticed—and especially not Sue. She wanted to continue with her tangent, wanted to put words to her fears and hopelessness, reassert that everything was indeed doomed.

She didn't get the opportunity, though.

"'Course different with people, girl," Daisy sighed. "Core the same—another measure, attempt. Need forgive you first, too. Nobody without mistakes. If want fix them, need calm and forgive self first. What happened is, ain't not-happening it. Need live with that. Live, breath, measure, try. Try and try. Better not anger at you, but if, then forgive first."

Was this really all the wisdom Daisy had? Sue clenched her hand as she listened in, the simplistic advice grating away at her composure. Wasn't forgiveness exactly how she ended up here in the first place? If she'd just tried harder and been more relentless with herself, she would've pushed through and done what was needed there and then, just like with Basil. This leniency, this 'forgiveness', clearly had only made things worse.

She grumbled, trying to keep what remained of her cool, "But that only makes things worse, right? If you just keep forgiving yourself, you'll grow okay with not fixing things and stay where you are. Won't it result in stagnation, in not caring about anything bad you do just because you can forgive yourself afterwards? I-I don't know, it just sounds like a recipe for becoming the worst sort of person, allowing us to freely hurt others before just absolving ourselves of everything wrong."

The other two women took a while chewing through Sue's words, the heady mix of emotion, imperfect translation and complicated topic muddling the waters further. For a while, Sue thought she had indeed 'won' the discussion, with Chisel turning to silence and Daisy heavily considering something. As much as she had wanted it to, that fact brought her no joy. Yes, she had won the medal for being the correctest little girl in the room—her reward was the crippling awareness of how much she'd fucked up for the rest of forever.

Sue didn't want to be right, not this once. She wanted someone to step in and prove her wrong, to hack away at her excuses and anger, piercing through them one after another before finally reaching the wounded emotions at the core. She wanted, needed to be wrong on this, inwardly praying for someone to bash through her contrarianism and offer her a hand towards somewhere where she wouldn't feel this awful anymore.

And Daisy was keen to deliver.

"Ya know, thinkin'. Sound like you focus mistakes. Not measures, fixes, but mistakes. It's punishment, from us to us. Makes feel awful. Shameful, angry. Imagine raisin' hand at yourself. Your soul. Focus mistakes is punish soul."

The Forest Guardian had no idea where the blue builder was going with this, but she had her entire attention.

Daisy continued, "Thing—nobody like punishment. It hurts, from us or not us. Nobody want, avoid if can. Focus mistakes is punishment is pain is not want fix, because hurts."

That sequence of events broadly tracked, yes. Of course having to think about what she'd done hurt. Whether that counted as actual punishment Sue wasn't as sure of—it more so felt like the only right thing to do in such a situation. But, what she was more positive about, was that it was necessary. It had to hurt, otherwise there wouldn't be any change.

Right?

Before Sue could put her doubts to words, though, Chisel had done it for her. "Need punishment occasionally," the red robot muttered with a pensive expression. "It shapes virtue."

The blue rhino wasn't convinced, firmly shaking her head. "Punishment from others? Not sure if, but not that about right now. Punishment from self? Nah, never. Look—all hate punishment. All want away punishment. Not want tell elders that crops trampled if get punished. Not want force out into rain in night. All the same when you, not others. Two ways runnin' away punishment. One good, but two common. One—you abuse self, fix mistake. Used hurt, now gone. Two—hide. Not look. Give up, hide, anythin' not look. When two, mistake never fix. Hide from us, from mistake and shame. Disappointment, yes. Mistake hurt, punishment hurt, shame hurt less. All hurt much."

Nobody was sure how to respond to Daisy's words. In no small part because she was clearly not done yet, tapping her claws against her bulky hide. After a moment or two, she sighed and continued, voice much more somber than before. "I say because I live that. Dozens dozens Moons ago, when Moonview much small, I... afraid night kin. Afraid, angry, awful. Not Root-like, but much close than want admit."

Sue stared at the builder wide-eyed, shocked at the admission considering how she had stood up to the badger last night. For once, she wasn't the only one shocked at the mundane events around her, the other builder's yellow eyes similarly wide. "...you?" Chisel asked, stunned.

"Ya, me," Daisy admitted. "It mistake, long big mistake. I watch, Moonview change. Everyone less afraid when Solstice here. Not me, not much. Still worry. Know worry bad. Bad mistake, hurt lot, shame lot. Hurt think, so not think. Only run and away look, forever. Moons go, others less afraid. Me still afraid. Afraid about afraid. Punishment thinking about afraid. No change, only hurt, only shame."

"Wh-what happened to change that?" Sue asked, leaning further in.

"Long talk Granite. Was afraid talk. Not want anger others, punishment others. Granite realize wrong something, listen. Hurt, but I explain what happen. I remember, he ask—'You want change?' Obviously yes. Then he, 'Sit, think about night kin afraid. No you anger, no you shame. Sit, think, accept you there. No judgment.' It hard, y'all! It very hard. He help. We sit talk. Eventually easier. Less anger at me from me. Can look at mistake without fear. Without feeling sin. After talking many times, finally can change and measure and fix. Only when no think 'I'm bad'. 'I'm bad' burn, paralyze, poison. 'I did bad' tells fix, change. It very hard then. Talking about very hard now."

Sue shook in her seat as she processed the admission, the lesson contained therein as straightforward as it was hard to accept. It was one thing to reassure others that just because they had done a bad thing that didn't mean they were a bad person, but doing that to herself bordered on impossible. And in her case, it wasn't even about her being a 'bad' person—she didn't consider herself to have done enough of either good or bad to think of herself as more than just 'a person'. 'Worthless', however... yeah, that tracked.

*click-growl-hiss...*

The unfamiliar, bestial sound perked Sue up, her gaze snapping towards its source. Her reaction at seeing the pink bat draped over Chisel's shoulders was much more subdued than when she first spotted them earlier, but it still wasn't exactly pleasant. Still, she tried her hardest to push through that subconscious emotional response—and instead, try linking with them.

Furrowing her brow and clenching her right hand, she pushed through the mounting aches as she extended the third link from her head. The first two grew treacherously weak as she maneuvered it through the air, tuning out the bat's uncertain, pensive emotions just enough to touch the underlying mind.

The attached body just blinked in surprise at the unfamiliar sensation, getting entirely distracted from what they'd just heard. "Sorry I not hear you Chisel something distracted!" they squeaked. Their translated voice was surprisingly high-pitched for how boyish it was, and nowhere near close enough to adulthood to conceivably fool her like with Northeast.

Congratulations, you got repeatedly pissed at a kid—wait, no. I... I probably want to avoid thinking that, right?

The red builder was unsure how did the pink scorpion manage to not hear her with her mouth being inches away from his ears, but she repeated regardless. "Ultimately, apologize you?"

The bat nodded fiercely, "Yes! Apologize did but hard and Mrs. Splitleaf help."

As Sue squirmed under the pressure of her self-consciousness, Daisy just chuckled. "Ain't thing wrong that, Copper. Realize mistake, realize harm, take responsibility. You want apologize, afraid alone, asked help. Still apologize, all good."

The newly named Copper clung closer to Chisel, looking away with a faint blush on his cheeks. "Mrs. Splitleaf and Ms. Cirrus talk me about it. I mean and hurt and wish not. Everyone mean and joke Joy and I think can too and... hurt hurt hurt. Hope others not mean Joy now."

"Better others with time, sonny. Good you for apologize and think better, others time take. Believe they better get too," Daisy beamed, about to reach up to scritch the bat on the chin before realizing she didn't quite have the reach from her sitting position.

Unfortunately for Copper, however, Daisy wasn't the only one who could understand him in their exchange. "Yeah, I—I hope nothing like that will happen to Joy again," Sue muttered, catching the bat's attention. He flinched at not just hearing, but understanding her voice, leaving her worrying she should've given him a heads up about it. It was too late for that now, but...

It wasn't too late for other things.

The small gathering remained silent while Sue gathered words, green fingers tapping against white, thin legs as she stared down at the ground. A part of her didn't want to bother with doing what she was about to do, kept chiding her for 'admitting defeat' like this. After all, her original anger was right—Copper had hurt Joy and took his sweet bloody time before doing anything more than pathetically running away from her.

A much larger part of her didn't want to be angry, though. Anger was so tiring, especially one she had to forcibly maintain with so much time having passed since the original incident. She was under no delusion that he and Joy wouldn't be buddy buddy right away after something like that, especially with the scar still visible on the girl's maw, but... they didn't have to be. Healing was gonna take a while either way; what mattered was that he'd finally apologized. And if Sue could find in herself the mercy to let those bygones be bygones and actually meet the bat without judgment as an equal,

Then maybe she could figure out how to do it with herself, too.

"Hi, Copper. I... I'm sorry for getting so angry at you over those past few days," Sue mumbled, finally finding the courage to look up at him. "I can't imagine that helped a lot, and I only scared you a bunch..."

Surprise, hesitation, confusion—and finally, relief. "Oh! Thank thank... *click-click-click-click—*" the bat began, drifting off with repetitive noises.

"This gal Sue, Copper!" Daisy chimed in.

The bat acknowledged the clarification with a few rapid clicks. "Thank thank Ma'am Daisy and thank thank Ms. Sue!"

If he had "Ma'am"'d me I would've probably crumbled into dust on the spot.

"Understand I Ms. Sue. If all happen me then my mom would angry angry like you," Copper continued, almost short-circuiting Sue's brain. She wanted to deny that comparison—she wasn't Joy's mom; the very idea was... i-it was silly, and the more she could do to dispel it, the better. And yet, for all her wants, she remained silent, just nodding along and persevering through the warmth that bloomed within her at the comparison.

Unaware of any internal debate going on right beside her, Daisy continued. "Goin' back. True Sue, forever forgive can stagnation. Can happen. But if want fix, from heart, then forgive help bunch. Forgive allow help from others. Sometimes, even true want fix not enough. Need others help. Without forgive, with anger, others help hard. Very hard. Too hurt to talk about. With forgive, remove anger, judgment, shame. Without shame, can ask help, fix. Punishment and anger make shame. Shame make not want talk, want protect. Protect the hurt to pride, hide guilt. Forgive destroy shame."

After flicking her fingers a few more times, the builder had just the thing in mind to cap her point off with. "Forever forgive can stagnation. Forever punishment, forever shame will stagnation. Forgive not hide responsibility—allow it. Allow overcome shame, fix."

As much as that kneejerk part of her still wanted to argue against that, to insist that she should be angry at herself and not let herself rest over this... it didn't have the strength to do so anymore. Not now. They might've taken a bit of interpretation to truly grasp, but Sue wanted to take Daisy's words to heart. Of course, even with them, even with that temporary balm of forgiveness of someone else's making, her mind still wasn't clear of everything that plagued it—and she knew it.

The situation with Northeast was messed up, but if it had been just that, Sue guessed she would've been able to apologize earlier today. And yet, she didn't. There was more to it, a Forest Guardian-shaped scar in her mind that covered up another, much larger, person-shaped scar. The latter one was all but invisible for now, and the former still hurt to acknowledge, but at least now she felt like she was capable of it.

The chat with Daisy didn't fix everything, but at least it left her feeling well enough to ask for help towards fixing things, be they with Northeast or Aurora. Even with the road ahead more visible now, it still wouldn't be as straightforward as she would've wished for.

"If only it was this easy..." Sue sighed.

"Ha! Never easy. Not even when help. If try try try, at last succeed, girl. How feel, Sue? Better?" Daisy asked, giving the Forest Guardian a modest smile at seeing her straighten her back at least somewhat.

Sue returned the expression. "I'm better, yeah. I still have a lot on my mind, but it feels more feasible now. It's also probably something I should talk about with someone else, heh. Thank you, Daisy, Chisel, C-Copper."

"Anytime, girl!"

"Much appreciated."

"Thank for talking Ms. Sue! Oh!" Copper perked up, drawing Chisel's attention right as she was about to turn around and head back to the basin-ful of boiling something. "Can tell Joy hope I she better?"

"O-of course, Copper!" Sue answered, her earlier smile blossoming as she kept a single annoying tear from leaking out. The bat chirped happily in response, the sound high enough to peak into ultrasound and slipping out of her mental translation—assuming it was supposed to be understood as words to begin with. With all the reassurance she could reasonably expect, Sue stood up and took a deep breath, earning herself a couple pats on the back right as Daisy got up and began to head back to the quarry. She just barely avoided losing her balance this time, netting both herself and the rhino a chuckle—followed by a realization. "Um—Daisy?"

"Yah?"

"Would you mind escorting me back to Moonview? I-I know there's a path here, but... uh—"

"'Course!" Daisy cut through Sue's uncertainty about how to word the current situation. "Not fret, Sue. More stone than need half Moon. Grab snack, three. Ready go now?"

No point in delaying it.

"Yeah!"

She had some well-wishes to pass on, after all.



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

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Chapter 31: Descent


Chapter 31: Descent



CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of parental emotional neglect​

The walk back to Sundance's dwelling was largely spent in silence, to Sue's relief. She greatly appreciated Daisy's help, the new perspective to chew through her mental murk with, but couldn't deny that having to put so much effort into just making sense of her words was draining. And that's without even mentioning all the digging through her emotions the topic of conversation demanded.

Instead, both of them got to enjoy silence and clean air. The blue rhino didn't linger for long after the yellowish sandstone of Sundance's roof came into view. Instead, she patted Sue's shoulder from behind to catch her attention and spoke, pointing at the tall building, "Sue girl! Here where want go?"

Sue's firm nod was confirmation enough. "Y-yes, that's here. Thank you for talking with me, Daisy."

"Not worry! Glad help. Need walk anyway. Safe be!" Daisy laughed. After patting Sue's back a couple more times—which Sue finally endured without losing her balance—she turned around and headed out, towards where the other builders were working.

As Sue made her way through the last stretch towards and up the stairs to Sundance's home, worries refused to leave her. Everything going on in her head had been merely subdued, far from excised, and she was acutely aware. She knew she'd have to keep talking—or at least, that she should talk to the vixen once she got back—but the thought of that still intimidated her.

And the worst thing was that she didn't know why.

Sundance hadn't been anything but helpful in all their conversations so far, be they about Moonview's history or what might be going on in her head. Sue knew she could trust her, that the vixen was likely the most capable person here for helping her process those feelings, but... that didn't make said feelings any less scary. The opposite, even. They've been perfectly content remaining quiet and digging away at her confidence in silence, and hurt now that any attention had been placed upon them. And that was just from her own surface thoughts! Sundance might not have been the most keen on using flames as a solution to all problems, but boy could she shine a light at all the bile in her head.

Sue wasn't even sure if she could be helped. She felt just about confident enough to try, but doubted said confidence would last long. Either way, that had to wait for a bit longer—she was there. She had to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun as she made it up the last few steps, about to push on the door before her—

But then; she heard a familiar, if distressing, sound from the inside.

She brought her head to the ajar door, peeking in at what was going on as she listened to Joy's distress. To the best of her ability to make out, everyone else was feeling perfectly alright in both looks and feelings alike. Sundance was still lying on a couple pillows, drawing sketches both on the stone floor and whichever scraps of wood were lying around. Twinkle was happily accompanying her in that, and so was Comet; the latter's excitable scribbles interrupted at Joy's unrest. Spark was comfortably snuggled into her mom, woofing quietly at the metal girl. Joy was a few paces away from all of them, facing them with an uneasy expression as her maw shuddered.

As much as it hurt to see Joy scared, Sue was hesitant to step in—the last thing she wanted to do was startle her further. And yet, it looked like there wasn't another way of handling that, not with the girl only growing more and more upset by the moment. She was tired; she was confused, and more than anything she was scared—and Sundance's words weren't helping, despite the vixen's clear effort. Neither was Spark's help once the kit had tried to slowly approach the girl with concern in her woofs, only prompting louder cries from the toothy tyke.

Once Joy's shudders had turned into scared squeaks and her maw lifted from its idle position behind her, though, the Forest Guardian knew she had to do something, even if the sight and sound of those metal teeth rattling together still intimidated her. Waiting no further, Sue knocked on the door and stepped in, not even having the time to speak up before Joy was already racing towards her, whimpering as she clung to her good leg.

Something bad had clearly happened here, but figuring out what exactly could wait.

C'mere, sweetie.

Pushing through the aching in her leg and horn alike, Sue kneeled and picked up the crying, frightened child into her arms. She held her tight as she walked to the chair she sat in last time, taking her time in case walking closer to others would spook Joy further. Fortunately, it didn't. The girl was much too focused on clinging to her guardian to notice much of her surroundings anymore.

Just a few feet away, all the scary noise and the return of their guardian had pulled Twinkle away from their own drawing. They shuddered in place, confused and withdrawing their tentacles into the confines of their bag. Sue continued to whisper reassurances to Joy as she watched for the little ghost under her care, passing Sundance a concerned look. Seeing the vixen be as uncertain as she was didn't help any, but at least the scene was finally down.

As spooked as Twinkle was, they thankfully only needed a small nudge to scramble to their guardian. With a gentle tap and a quiet whisper from the older vixen in the room, they outstretched their tentacles again and scooted towards Sue, picking up the pace with each little dash. Behind them, Spark followed too, mindful enough to limit herself to laying beside Sue's leg instead of joining the other kids on her lap.

Despite all the tension moments prior, things seemed to be in the clear. Even more so once the bundle of ghost had joined the toothy girl on Sue's lap, pressing into her torso. She knew of no mental magic that could help them calm faster, but steady breaths while being held by someone trustworthy were a foolproof cure for that already. And, especially in Joy's case, there was another thing she could do, unnerving as it still was.

Scared or not, there was a girl to comfort, and the worst of her fear was already behind her. Nothing bad should happen if she'd just—

Sue was anticipating the tip of Joy's maw to grab her hand again, but she certainly didn't expect that to happen before she'd even touched it. It was briefly startling, but the shift in the girl's emotions was immediate, her whimpers ceasing basically instantly.

One toothy tyke clinging to one side—check. One bundle of ghost wrapped tight around her other side—check.

One messy situation she'd walked in on but which was now easing up, check.

With Sue's right hand temporarily immobilized, the left one had to pick up the slack. It moved between all the gathered heads, bags and maws, cooling off a bit of the turbulent emotions with each touch. All that was missing were words, something that Sundance would help immensely with.

"Sundance?" Sue whispered, perking both kids' heads. "Could you—"

The vixen nodded. "Done, worry not. It's good to see you back, Sue. I apologize for such a situation awaiting you."

Joy clung tighter as she heard Sundance's words, the small pang of negative emotion not missed on either psychic. "What happened, though?" the Forest Guardian asked, more stunned than accusatory.

"Joy woke up a few minutes ago and was scared to see you not be here," the vixen explained. "I tried to calm her down afterwards, but I... mishandled it, to say the least. I'm sorry, Joy. I didn't mean to scare you."

The metal girl listened intently to the woofed words, their contents much more understandable now that fright wasn't gripping her mind anymore. As scary as this situation was, if unintentionally, her big friend and guardian was here now, and that's all that mattered.

And said guardian wanted to help, too. "I'm here Joy, I'm here. You got scared bad, didn't you?" Silence filled the room for a few moments as the girl processed the questions, calming down as she responded with a handful of quiet nods. Sue continued, "That bad man from before we got here scared you bad and it hurt, and I'm very sorry."

Judging by Joy's whimper at the mere mention of these events, she might've just nailed it. The sound, compared with the flash of terror, left Comet startled as well. He put down his little drawing before scrambling towards the nearest adult, the worst of the fear not lasting long before Sundance's warmth melted through it. Sue smiled weakly at his antics, and at the confirmation of her hunch.

Still, as much as acknowledging what had happened helped, it wasn't an immediate cure by itself. Sue continued her silent reassurance—that Joy was seen, that her emotions were normal and justified. And, a few moments later, that she was safe. "I'm here for you, Joy. You're safe here, I promise."

"I-I-I... safe," Joy whimpered, more so to herself than to anyone else. Sue had to keep a grip on herself to not startle her with a tight hug, whole body yearning to comfort the girl as much and as fast as it could. Alas, had to take it easy. The progress they've already had was plenty reassuring.

"Yes, you're safe, Joy. And so are you, Twinkle. I'm sorry about what happened earlier. A bad man scared and hurt us, but he's not here anymore. We're safe," Sue continued, spreading some of her affection to the little ghost. She cursed herself quietly for overlooking them until now and only focusing her efforts on Joy, but on a rational level, she knew such slip-ups were expected. Especially since Twinkle's method of expressing fear was quiet withdrawal as opposed to panicked whimpers.

Something, something, forgive myself. Let's stop distracting myself any further with my nonsense.

Addressing the elephant in the room helped, but the reassurance took its time to fully worm itself in. The brief splashes of fear in both kids' psyche at being reminded of the event took Sue aback. For a few long, terrifying moments, she wondered whether she had made a grave mistake by bringing it up, whether she shouldn't have just waited until they forgot it on their own. Thankfully, the distress didn't last long once her words caught up with the kids' memories—even if Joy's little mind wasn't quite done with getting over its recent scare after waking up.

But Sue was here. They were safe with her. She loved them; she was their guardian; she was there for them. She was their—

"I'm sorry for not being here when you woke up, Joy," Sue continued, sensing that lingering thread in her mind. "I was..." she drifted off, torn between wanting to keep them in the loop and not spilling any of her muck onto them. "I was feeling bad too, and I wanted to be alone for a while."

Sue monitored both kids' emotions as she provided her simplified explanation, keeping watch of anything bad creeping into their minds again. So far, so good. "I was feeling bad, but it wasn't because of you, I promise. I love you both, and I want to be here for you as much as I can." Continued success; no fear or self-consciousness yet. That's not to say that her words didn't elicit any emotion in the young listeners, though, taking their guardian aback as the leftovers of their fear turned into a desire to comfort.

Their—their guardian was feeling bad. And they didn't want her to feel bad.

One breath, two breaths, any expression of emotion more intense than a wobbly smile averted—Sue could continue. She was about to do so even—before a quiet, harsh voice caught her attention first. "H-hope good you..." Joy spoke, her words the clearest ones Sue had heard yet.

It sure didn't help with making her smile even wobblier, ha.

"I'm feeling good now, thank you Joy," Sue beamed. With the topic having swung around to something more positive, Sue was keen to get the most out of it, continuing, "There are other people out there that helped me calm down and feel better. Just like there are others that want to help you, too, because I won't always be here," she added.

Both kids reacted by clinging to her that bit closer, each processing their own brief pangs of fear at the reminder that Sue was her own person and, as such, lived her own life. It was unfair! Sue made them feel safe, and they didn't want to feel unsafe. They wanted her to always be there for them. The selfish thought lingered in both their minds, but was weakened soon after by the reassurance that came afterwards.

"I-I know it's scary when I'm not here. But~, there are many people you can trust and that will keep you safe even if I'm not here." Direct as that reassurance was, it could only do so much—even once it was accompanied with an example. "Sundance will look after you when I'm not here. I know she might look a bit scary and unfamiliar, but she's a friend. You can trust her."

"Yeah! Y-you can trust mom! *Ow,*" Spark added happily. The older vixen herself remained quiet at the shout out, holding her chuckles in as she just opted to wave at the pair of kids on Sue's lap. Comet, being Comet, joined in on the waving, underlining the fun gesture with a drawn-out squeak that sent the rest of the room giggling.

Sue kept her hand on the pulse of the two little ones, literal and emotional alike. She'd been keeping them calm enough so far, especially with Spark and Comet's help, but was worrying about how much she'd actually end up accomplishing. Especially since, as her brain murk was eager to point out, their fears were right to an extent. Not about them being unsafe without her specifically, but rather being unsafe whether she was there or not.

Postured as she may about keeping them safe and being there for them, once push came to shove earlier today, once it was just her, them, and someone that wanted to hurt them—what did she even do? Nothing; she just stood there paralyzed, just like Joy. She was supposed to be their guardian, someone they could trust for more than just idle words about being loved and safe, trust that she'd be able to back up her words with actions. But she couldn't.

She was just too weak. She could and should be doing more to protect them, but for that, she had to get stronger. Strong enough to keep them safe from Nightbane; from Solanum; from everyone who'd ever hurt them; from them, the bad people that only wanted to hurt the ones she loved—

No, stop.

Before Sue knew it, it was her heart that was racing the hardest of everyone around. She held the two little ones that bit closer as she calmed down, immensely relieved that neither of them noticed her turn for the worse. Joy was conflicted between wanting to follow Sue's words and trust the big vixen, and still feeling just a bit too spooked to do so. Twinkle, however, seemed to have entirely calmed down. Though with their mind feeling more like a glowing cloud than a single point of light, it was quite hard to tell.

There were a couple more things she could say and do to help them further in feeling better, too. Sliding her free hand under Joy's seat, Sue gently lifted her into her arms, all the while tilting the elbow of her other hand for Twinkle to grab onto to pull themselves closer to her heartbeat. It took a while for the ghost to notice, but once both kids had shifted to a closer position, the effect was almost immediate, if slight.

She wasn't done yet, though.

"I'm proud of you for staying here while I was away," she beamed, feeling Twinkle's spectral embrace loosen a bit. "And even if you got a bit scared, that's all good, too. I'm so, so proud of both of you."

For the first time since she got back, Sue saw a smile creep its way onto Joy's face. Before she even knew it, it had reflected onto her face too, bright and proud as the girl relaxed—and Twinkle concentrated. Moving the hand of the arm that held Joy closer to the lil' ghost, Sue carefully stroked the fabric of their bag, giving them all the time they needed to put their thoughts together. Sundance focused alongside them, soon putting words to Twinkle's ethereal feelings—

"C-c-can stay here?" Joy cut in, oblivious to what was happening less than a foot away from her. Her high-pitched squeaks and growls cut the vixen off and sent Sue giggling—both at the badly timed words and what they implied. She didn't mind Joy sitting on her lap one bit, but having the girl be asking for that while still holding onto her hand with the tip of her very toothy maw was... amusing. Suppose that was just such a natural thing for her, she didn't even realize anyone else could mind.

Adorable.

The best kind of amusing, lighting Sue's face up as she nodded firmly and answered, "Of course! Stay here as long as you want, Joy. We're not rushing anywhere." Obvious as the answer was, Joy appreciated it being stated out loud all the same. She wasn't feeling tired, but wanted to wait some more before trying to engage with the world around her, and neither of the adults around minded.

Neither did the other kids, for that matter. "Yeah! I hope you're feeling better—*ow*—Joy!" Spark woofed out, putting on her brightest smile before withdrawing into her mom's comforting presence. Guess if Joy wouldn't be joining them soon, there was no point to her friend waiting there just in case—especially while still feeling so crummy.

Alas, said crumminess persevered, even with Comet dropping everything he was doing to squeeze all he could reach of the younger vixen, hoping to make her feel better. Mission accomplished, if not the intended way.

While Joy got her bearings in silence, it was time to focus on her fellow little one. Sue resumed her affection of Twinkle's bag as she whispered, "Did you want to say something, Twinkle?"

Being put on the spot made them flinch a bit, especially after Joy had interrupted them moments prior, but a beaming smile and a warm presence did wonders for melting through their hesitation. And so, with the vixen's help, finally came the words: "When I feel bad, I alone too..."

Sue put on a reassuring smile at the translation, lowering Joy down to free the hand that wasn't being held by the girl's maw, before comforting the little ghost with it. Before she could even respond about how that was all okay and that some people want to be alone when scared while others want to be with others, though, Twinkle continued. "N-n-not like..."

Their guardian blinked, taken aback. She thought back to the Nightbane incident again, trying to ignore her fellow Forest Guardian while recalling how Twinkle behaved through it all. It was hard to remember, and she soon realized why—they just didn't do anything. They withdrew all the way into her bag, pressed against her, and just stayed there, silent, without as much as feeling afraid in any way that Sue's senses could pick up.

All of which didn't quite sound like just being afraid. "When you're 'alone' like that," Sue began, lifting the tiny ghost closer to her face, "does everything else grow... more quiet?" It was the best phrasing for dissociation Sue could come up with on the spot, and she dearly hoped they'd understand her intent.

For once, her hopes were fruitful. "Very quiet. Very far away, like before Sue..."

Deep breaths kept the pang of tearful pain at Twinkle's admission from crawling all the way up to Sue's face, letting her maintain composure as she held the small bag close to her chest. The implications of the discussion—and how unpleasant the sensation involved was—were lost on Joy. That didn't mean she'd ever skip on helping someone else out if she felt capable of it, and the little ghost was just about the only being around smaller than herself. She scrambled to her feet on Sue's lap, digging into the Forest Guardian's thighs as she reached up to dispense some of her own affection; what remained of earlier fears was replaced by hopes that they'd feel better.

"I'm so sorry you felt like that, Twinkle. That is a very unpleasant sensation," Sue began, idly stroking the fabric separating her thumb from the ghost's true body. "Me and Sundance are here to help if you feel afraid or bad. It's hard to not hide, but it will feel better when we're here to comfort you."

All this would've been absolutely impossible to explain to any kid even close to their age back on Earth, hah.

Sue wasn't deluding herself that her somewhat vague explanations would induce sudden and permanent change for the better, certainly not in kids this young. At best, it'd nudge them in the right direction, with much of the needed growth ahead being entirely in their court as they got more in control of, and conscious of, their emotions. They'd probably not stop being entirely afraid whenever she was gone anytime soon, but Sue hoped she'd at least be able to nudge them towards seeking comfort in others as opposed to growing terrified or freezing up.

On that note. "Have you been feeling safe here, with Sundance?" Sue asked, briefly moving one hand to pet Joy's maw.

Thankfully, the girl didn't grow self-conscious at the question, merely listening closer as Twinkle answered, "Yes... Warm, nice..." It was just what Sue was wishing for, hoping that seeing the ghost's confidence would inspire some of it in the girl as well. To her surprise, though, Twinkle wasn't done yet, following up with a question of their own: "When you alone, it help...?"

Ack, that was a tricky one. One was taking a walk to clear her thoughts, the other was hollow, fear-gripped dissociation, and she worried about having mixed them up in Twinkle's mind. Then again... it wasn't like the connection was entirely without merit. Her earlier departure was basically a flight response to Twinkle's typical freeze, and it was only by talking through it with Daisy and others that she actually calmed down.

...

Yeah, that's the point.

"Hmm... being alone can help, but talking with others can help even more. When I went on a walk, I didn't feel good until I talked to Daisy and saw what she and others were doing." There, a simple answer that hopefully redirected the ghost where she wanted them to go.

Joy was listening keenly, too, but for other reasons. 'Daisy' was a name she recognized! She was always nice to her whenever she passed by their daycare. Even gave her a snack when she was clinging to Mrs. Splitleaf after getting scared one time. She liked Daisy, and now that someone else she liked a lot had brought her up, she wanted to hear more. "D-D-Daisy! What she do?"

Sue couldn't remember seeing Joy this excited, her smile threatening to split her head. "Oh, you know Daisy!"

"Y-yes! She nice," Joy answered, tripping over words less and less.

"She cuts stone for the buildings in Moonview, sweetie. I watched her do it and then talked with her about how important it is to forgive yourself when you make a mistake."

"Did it help?" Sundance asked, her woofs pulling Sue's attention from the two tykes on her lap. Sundance was equal parts curious and hopeful, and the words that followed soothed both those emotions.

"Yes, it did. So, so much."

A part of Sue wanted to keep going, to ride that wave of feeling better in order to address the things that still troubled her—but not with the kids in earshot. She figured that them knowing that she felt bad earlier was fair, but any specifics were best avoided.

You'd need to cut them off from the translation—actually, hold on.

Sundance blinked at the sudden swerve in her pupil's thoughts, looking up at her from her laying position as she waited for a follow-up. Before doing anything else, Sue wanted to put a bow on the conversation she was already having. Joy, however, knew what she wanted to see the next chance she got, enthralled by what she understood of Sue's recollection. "Want see Daisy!"

"Awww," Sue swooned. "It's late and I'm tired right now, so we can't go there today. I'm sorry."

"T-tomorrow?" Joy asked without skipping a beat, sparking laughter from both her guardian and the vixen.

"We will see, Joy," Sundance answered.

"Yes, we will! And the last thing—Joy, Copper said he hopes you're doing better."

The name didn't ring a bell in the girl's head right away. Sue wasn't particularly eager to go into charades to describe him, but figured it'd be necessary. "He's pink with wings and—"

*shudder*

Yep, now she knows who I'm talking about.


In spite of Sue's worries, though, Joy didn't react to the news any more intensely than with a bit of shaking. Maybe she took the well-wishes to heart, maybe she just wasn't as afraid of him now in general after their partially forced reconciliation yesterday. Either way, Sue was still proud of her.

"For now... Joy, Twinkle. Me and Sundance will be talking about some adult things, and you won't be able to understand us for a while. And don't worry—you can stay on my lap if you want to." To Sue's relief, her heads-up achieved the desired effect while avoiding stirring any worry. Both the little ones nodded to the best extent their respective anatomies allowed them to, though they weren't eager to move anywhere else.

More than fine by Sue.

Without skipping a beat, Joy and Twinkle felt a squirmy sensation in their heads as the translation was pulled away from them, leaving just the two adults, each with two kids under their watch. Sundance had it arguably easier, between half-asleep Spark not being eager to move much from her comfort and Comet having scooted back to scribbling on a plank of wood with charcoal.

It was time to dig into the murk that went deeper than anything she'd talked about with Daisy. "Now it's just us two, right?" Sue asked.

"^Indeed. I am really glad to see you doing better, Sue,^" Sundance answered, switching to telepathy.

"S-so am I, yeah. The chat with Daisy really helped a lot. She stressed all about how I should forgive myself if I make a mistake, how that's the path to actually getting better and making up for anything bad like that, and more importantly how being harsh on myself only makes it all shameful and awful."

The vixen smiled, absentmindedly ruffling Spark's tummy. "^All very helpful observations, I imagine.^"

"They are, and they helped me feel better after... *sigh*, did I tell you about what happened with Northeast?" Sue asked, deflated at the realization she'd have to run it by the vixen.

"^Hmmm...^" Sundance trailed off, claws tapping against the stone floor. "She never struck me as the sort to engage in personal spats, so I am curious."

"Oh, it's just—I got really angry at her yesterday when she was asking me questions about what happened to you, and at some point I just... snapped and screamed at her and upset her. That was when you were comatose, and just earlier today I spotted her while out with Solstice and had a chance to apologize, but I didn't. Got too self-conscious, felt awful, and kinda just ended up running away and feeling even worse afterwards. I still have to apologize to her, and what I talked about with Daisy will help with that, though."

The vixen listened intently to her pupil's explanations, finding the mental image of the meek Sue yelling at anyone to be... quite comedic, in all honesty. Still, it certainly wasn't funny for either Sue or Northeast when it happened, and so Sundance kept that observation to herself. Instead, she touched on a different point. "^I see. Best of luck with apologizing to her. From your phrasing, however, it seems as if that wasn't the event that left you upset.^"

Sue sighed weakly. "No, no it wasn't, it was... it was thinking about Aurora, and about what Solstice said."

To the once-human's relief, her mentor was still on the same page. "^That does seem the right topic to talk about, indeed. Both you and Solstice grew rather upset before you headed out for Dewdrop. Could you go over what exactly sparked this foul mood? If you feel you can and want to, of course.^"

"No no, don't worry, I—I want to. It's just..." Sue trailed off, looking for something to latch her focus onto. The sunroof above, together with the deities dancing around it, made for a right target. More so because of the latter than the former, though. As pretty as the gradually yellowing light of the outside was, the divinely inspired dolls inspired nothing but spite and contempt in the Forest Guardian, Duck included, sobering her up for just long enough to start talking. "Earlier, when we were all talking about Twinkle's costume, Solstice brought up her kin and their markings after I made a crass joke."

"^I would argue it wasn't crass, but—please continue, Sue,^" Sundance reassured.

"R-right. Then, at the end, she just said—*sigh*, she mentioned how Solanum and Nightbane weren't really deserving of those markings, right? And after that, she added I deserve them more than they do. And—and I know that this was just a small offhand comment, it wasn't her focusing and officially decreeing me worthy of that or whatever, but..." Sue trailed off, the free hand nervously flexing as she desperately searched for the right words to continue with.

Words that her mentor was keen to provide. "^It stuck with you?^"

"Yes, that—that's a valid way of describing that. It stuck with me real bad, and then I—oh? Twinkle?"

The movement on her lap cut Sue's increasingly wobbly recollection off as she watched the bagful of ghost scoot towards Joy. The spectral embrace that followed was abrupt and weak enough to just leave the metal girl confused as she and her guardian watched Twinkle let go of them both and climb down onto the floor. After one last moment of hesitation, they scooted back to where Comet was playing with their drawings, the Martian tyke squeaking in elation at their tiny friend having returned.

Without saying a word, Sundance psychiced over some more wooden scrap for them to draw on, together with another stick of charcoal. She then nudged Comet further away after sensing them wanting to use the little ghost's outfit as more canvas for their doodles, before refocusing on Sue once more. "^Alright. Would you be able to say why it stuck with you as much as it had?^"

The answer was simultaneously already obvious and obscured to her consciousness, veiled by layers upon layers of denying herself what her innermost desires were already clear about. She wrapped her free arm around Joy, holding the girl tighter and sending her into weak giggles as her tiny arms wrapped themselves around Sue's. Some of her wanted to pretend she didn't know, to avoid being direct with what her heart was yearning for, to not have to face something that was so stark inside her, but which hurt like a motherfucker to think about.

Then again, not like it hasn't hurt me plenty today already. Least I can do is get back at it. Take that... me, you piece of shit.

...

...

Something tells me I shouldn't have thought that either.

With that bit of motivation in mind, fueled further by recalling yesterday's lesson with the vixen about being honest about her desires, Sue focused. She thought harder than she ever did, pushing through the pain and actually trying to examine the unsightly wound in her mind, as well as what had fueled it.

And, even more importantly, just what desire that wound was trying to mask.

"So, I... I don't know much about those tattoos, but Solstice said a thing or two about them yesterday," Sue began. "Obviously, they mean a lot to her people, and I know she still really cares about it even if most of her people suck—or at least her relatives, sorry—"

"^You need not apologize, Sue,^" Sundance reassured, trying her hardest to conceal a chuckle at Sue's phrasing.

"Right. So even with all that, the tattoos mean a lot to her, and more importantly, they're a kind of family thing, right? She told me it's the family that's supposed to... unsure what's the word, paint them on you. So then when she mentioned I deserved them more than her actual family, it really got me thinking. A-and—" Sue froze, the pain of having to put those vulnerable desires to words almost stealing her breath whole. It was so, so hard.

And yet, she persevered. "And I want it, the tattoos, that—that connection with her, but I don't know whether Solstice meant it that way. She could've just been joking and now here I am, completely misinterpreting and making a joke out of myself. A-and after all, even if she did, that's still terrifying because what would Aurora think about that!"

Sue observed Sundance's reactions, waiting for a response. To her worry, it kept not coming, the vixen only offering her a gradually creeping eyebrow in response. Guess she had to elaborate on it some more, as much as even thinking about that hurt. "I-I mean, that's really the thing that left me feeling awful. Just the thought of what Aurora would think about me just stepping in here and wanting something—something that Fate took away from her. Just thinking about this is making me feel awful, and it was why I was so off before I left with Solstice, and then that whole mess-up with Northeast happened and it left me feeling ten times worse."

To the Forest Guardian's relief, the vixen was finally satisfied, putting together words as her pupil leaned back into her seat. Sue shook harder than she ever did, perking up Joy and making her check up on her guardian. Her smile was shaky, and the moment of stillness she disguised her anxiety with was fleeting, but it was just enough to keep the metal girl from growing worried.

The last thing she needs is to be concerned about someone like me.

Sundance was taking her time coming up with a response, leaving Sue uneasy. Was that loathing voice actually true, and her mentor was trying her hardest to look for something feeble to contradict it with? That'd be funny.

...

No, it would not be funny, it would be fucking dreadful; the mere thought enough to send Sue's heart rate spiking—

*squeeeeak!*

The high-pitched noise came through just in time to drag Sue away from the precipice of a deep, deep hole, pulling her attention towards a much more adorable sight. She remembered just how rattled Twinkle got when Comet pulled them into a sudden hug yesterday. They still weren't perfectly calm this time, but they pushed on and scooted towards Sundance for comfort instead of withdrawing again—and the lil' Moon Child gladly followed, always eager for some warmth from what was basically his aunt.

And that extra bit of comfort finally made Sundance's response come together, delivered once she was done ruffling Comet's hair. "^How much do you know about Aurora, Sue?^"

Sue expected several questions, but not this one. It felt like she was about to be asked about assorted trivia, about things that Aurora would've known as a real Forest Guardian, but which she, a pretender, could never hope to experience. It would be wildly out of character for Sundance to do, too. The thought provided enough of a life raft for the once-human to not panic there and then as she answered, "V-very little. All I really know is that she was Solstice's daughter; she tragically died when the plague hit Moonview, and... th-that's it, really."

It was an entirely honest answer—and one that Sundance immediately pounced on. "^Why would you think she would be displeased if Solstice were to adopt you and give you the Pale Lady's blessings, then?^" Seeing her pupil's eyes immediately going wide, she added, "^I really want you to focus on that question Sue, as much as it'll be likely to hurt.^"

Hurt... wasn't on Sue's mind once she followed her mentor's instructions. More than anything, she was taken aback by the vixen's frank phrasing, making her feel like she'd been flashbanged. Trying to put that moment to good use, Sue gave the task an honest attempt, putting herself in the dead Forest Guardian's shoes and really trying to imagine how it'd be like if, say, the roles were reversed. If it was her observing the scene from beyond, watching her human mom adopt a daughter a few years after she'd passed away.

She wanted to be angry, wanted to answer Sundance's question that way, but she just... couldn't. No matter how hard she tried to get mad at her hypothetical mom and the hypothetical daughter said mom was to adopt, she just couldn't do it. Her mom would be heartbroken after that had happened to her, but she wouldn't have used another kid as a replacement; she wasn't that shallow and selfish. A-and even if she somehow had, it'd only be her that Sue would be mad about, and not the poor orphan given a second chance at life.

But this isn't about my mom and me, though, it's not comparable in that way. It's not some random orphan replacing me, it's me replacing Aurora. It's so much worse.

Whatever progress Sue might've made, the stray thought undid them all in an instant. It almost made her double over as she whispered, "Wh-why wouldn't she be angry with me?"

Sundance... laughed.

It took Sue aback just at how unexpected her response was. Fortunately, words followed the canine sound up before her shock could turn into more hurt. "^Well, I could tell you about how Aurora didn't have an envious bone in her body. I could tell you about how she just kept asking Solstice and Jasper for a younger sister ever since she evolved. But... hah, we both know that isn't what all this is truly about, is it?^"

"Wh-why wouldn't it be?" Sue answered, dumbfounded.

"^Because you don't know Aurora, Sue. I don't mean that as an accusation, but in how you're entirely working off assumptions about how she'd behave towards you. And, yes—that is how all social interaction works, to an extent. Each of us has assumptions about how the other will respond whenever we interact with them, built from our biases, our experience, our hopes, and so on and so on. With Aurora, however... you're basing your assumptions off nothing concrete, merely off her being Solstice's daughter.^"

Sue half-sighed, half-groaned, not appreciating what sounded like a massive tangent towards some random semantics. She almost wanted to refuse this thread of discussion out of spite, to rudely ask what the point was—but in the end, a part of her wanted to see where the vixen was going with this. "Sure, I suppose."

"^Good!^" the vixen beamed. "^Now, the big question is as such: where do these assumptions come from? You aren't basing them off on any knowledge about Aurora, but they come from somewhere. And that somewhere is likely deep in your mind. You'll have to dig to find out where they're coming from—and that process will hurt. And it is even more important because it will hurt.^"

Again, a silly tangent. The answer was... not immediately apparent, but obvious once it had emerged from the recesses of her mind. "I mean... I just wouldn't be a good daughter. That's—that's all there is to it."

Sue didn't even notice how much harder she had to fight to keep her expression steady after that thought.

At the opposite end of the room, the vixen lifted an eyebrow once more. "^Why so? Why wouldn't you be a good daughter? Why wouldn't you, the whole of you, be enough?^" Sundance asked, each question stabbing again and again at a mental wound Sue didn't even know was there. "^Aurora wasn't some magically perfect person, and Solstice definitely isn't either. They both had flaws and shortcomings, as do all of us—why would you be any different? Why would you be 'not good enough' for them?^"

Sue tried to maintain whatever cool she had left as the questions hit her like a series of blows, each hurting more and more. Her expression had turned into a strained grimace, her gaze jumped to anywhere but the vixen; she was only barely keeping the hand Joy was holding with her maw from clenching tight. Deep down, there was only one true answer to that question, one that Sue ended up whispering before she could think of something to cover it up with.

"Because I've never been."​

*sq-squeak-growl?*

The sound of Joy's untranslated speech made Sue freeze, unable to simultaneously process Sundance's words and respond to the girl. The vixen had her back, calmly responding to the toothy girl, "^Sue is busy right now. Yes, you can come over here, don't worry.^" Joy nodded intently, hopping off Sue's lap and onto the stone floor before breaking into a quick dash—

And forgetting to let go of Sue's hand with her maw before she did so.

As startling as the sudden yank was, the Forest Guardian was more thankful than anything. She hastily put on a smile for Joy before leaning back into her seat, dropping anything that remained of her pretense of being okay the moment the girl joined the other kids with their drawings. She wanted to laugh at the mishap, to let it take the pressure off for just a moment—but the relief kept not coming.

She was in too deep, so close to the wound at the bottom of her mind that any wrong move threatened to make her implode. At least, that's what it felt like as she sat in the wooden chair, hands shaking and tears rolling down her cheeks without her having any idea when she'd even started crying. There was only one way to go from here.

Down, down, down.

"^If it's okay for me to continue—how was your relationship with your parents, Sue?^" Sundance asked, noticeably more hesitant.

Contrary to the vixen's woes, that was a topic that Sue had more of a grasp on—at least the 'bad' parts of it. "D-did Solstice tell you about... about what happened when I ran into her at the cemetery?"

"^Only in the broadest of strokes. If you feel you can handle it, I'd appreciate hearing it from you.^"

Oh, this was perfect. Sue's been through this before, and while it hurt like a motherfucker, she felt at least somewhat in control of the traumatic memory. Without skipping a beat, she gave Sundance the rundown, avoiding lingering on any point for too long. "When I was six, which is a bit younger than Spark is right now—I-I think—my mom died in a tragic accident. A-and I saw it happen."

"^I'm very sorry for your loss, Sue.^" Sundance answered quietly, pulling the almost-asleep Spark into a gentle hug.

There, perfect delivery. Sue didn't linger, didn't think, didn't break down. Only went over the parts that matter, and none of the—

But then, to her horror, Sundance continued: "^What happened afterwards?^"

Sue felt her entire body stiffen. This wasn't supposed to have been the important part; the rest of her childhood was normal. Why was she being asked about this? "Uh, n-nothing really..." she tried to deflect.

And was instantly seen through. "^I would still want to hear about it. It affected you just as much as the accident itself.^"

But there wasn't anything wrong with it!

The Forest Guardian tried to catch her breath, to recenter herself and continue the tale without losing her cool—and felt unable to. And yet, she had to, letting the tears flow as she put effort into keeping her voice from wobbling too much. "D-dad never remarried and raised me on his own. We weren't well off or anything, but we w-weren't poor either and we made it work. A-a-and before you ask," Sue subconsciously raised her tone, "he—he wasn't ever abusive towards me! He did the best he could with what he had; he wasn't a bad dad!"

Not an assertion Sundance was about to dispute. It wasn't the point, anyway. "^How did he process your mom's loss?^" she asked.

Sue flinched, the memories much foggier than she would've wanted. "W-well, he was really sad about it, a-and cried most days for a while. I mean, I—I did too. I don't blame him; that's just how you go through stuff like that, you know."

"^Did he talk to you about the accident?^"

"Oh no, o-of course not; why would he? It'd just be more pain for both of us; we already knew what had happened all too well and just had to keep on living, you know. After a while he stopped crying mostly, a-and then I stopped seeing him be sad about it, so I tried to stop being sad too. He spent a lot of his time at work anyway, really had to work hard to make ends meet. It was 2008 and—" Sue cut herself off, trying and failing to figure out a way of conveying the year's significance to Sundance. "Those were bad times a-and he had to work really hard. He was a bit absent in hindsight, b-b-but I DON'T BLAME HIM OR ANYTHING!" Sue shouted, teeth halfway bared.

The tears were flowing freely at that point, and it was only thanks to Sundance's active intervention that the entire room wasn't growing alarmed. All the little ones but Spark were separated by a faint, shimmering barrier, not noticed by Sue in her turmoil. She hurt, the pain downright radiating from her—but they weren't done yet. They were close, though. The vixen could feel it. "^What happened then?^"

Sue breathed as deeply as she could, with her entire body hurting this much. This was a much more innocuous question, and after all, nothing was wrong. She just had to answer it. "I-I mean, it kinda stayed like that. He spent a lot of time at work. I mostly just stayed at home after school. Spent a lot of time on the inter—that won't make any sense and I don't think I can explain it right now. J-just, stuff I could do on my own. Dad—dad didn't have much time to take me places, so I stopped asking. I mean, he was already having to support us both and raise me by himself, so I don't—don't blame him. He really tried his best, a-and never hurt me or anything."

"^Did you two do much together?^"

The once-human weaved her fingers together as half her body shuddered in nervous tics, hurt from wounds long past rattling her body. She kept trying to focus. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong.

Can this FUCKING body stop crying already!?

"I mean... n-no, not really. He kept trying to take me places for a while, like we used to before, but... it just never felt right without mom. We kept trying and then we just eventually stopped. B-b-but again, that's normal! He was busy with work and worked his ass off and just didn't have the time! Besides, I was a little shit sometimes. I would've been a challenge for any parents, let alone a single father! He was doing his best; he loved me and I loved him! It's not his fault!"

Sundance nodded slowly in response. Sue hoped beyond hope she was convincing her that there was nothing else to find down this dark path of her memories, because NOTHING WAS WRONG. HER DAD DID NOTHING WRONG AND SHE WASN'T BLAMING HIM FOR ANYTHING. She didn't want to think about this, and judging by all the cold wetness flowing down her neck, neither did her body.

And yet, she had to.

"^I see. If you couldn't go places together, did you talk together often?^" the vixen continued.

Finally, something simple and reassuring. "O-of course! We talked every day after I got back from school a-and he from work, over dinner."

And yet, the questions wouldn't stop coming. "^What did you talk about on these occasions?^"

"Y-y'know, just normal stuff," Sue answered offhandedly. "H-how was my school, how was his work, dinner, the weather and such. Sometimes I'd ask him if he was planning to take us places, but he never did because we always had to save money. A-and again I DON'T blame him, we had to save money for college and just in case! And he didn't have much to save in the first place, so we just couldn't do much, but he was trying his best."

"^What about talking about things important to you?^"

Sue opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. She tried a few more times, churning through the murk of her memory to find something, anything to bring up on that front, anything that wasn't the end of his life or that one ANNOYING memory that kept popping up. It was bad, whatever, not something she should've been dwelling on; there had to be something else, ANYTHING else!

Please let there be something else.

"We-we didn't do that much either. I..." she drifted off. Tried as she did, there was nothing—nothing she wanted to bring up, at least. That annoying memory wasn't the only one of its sort, but it was the starkest. Sue hoped that if she'd just go through it, just get it over with while replacing the term 'flash game' for something Sundance would understand better, then she'd be able to redirect the conversation where it should've gone to begin with.

"There was one time when I was... ten or eleven or so. I really got into a—a small game, you could say. It was just a small dumb thing, a toy basically, nothing—nothing actually important. It was dumb, b-but I liked playing it and got quite invested into it, more than I should've been. I was just a dumb kid like that. Got invested, e-even a bit excited, a-and I wanted to tell dad about it. He had a long day, he was already quite annoyed, and I just didn't notice and he was nice enough to not speak up or anything. I just began rambling about it, about all the characters I liked and so on and he listened and nodded. A-and after a while he asked if I could talk about books with him some other time since he was busy, a-a-and I realized he hadn't even been listening and—"

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP

Sue tried to see, but her eyes were too blurry from all the tears. She wanted to breathe, to continue, but her sobs wouldn't let her. Her hands were clenched together, her expression was twisted in pain, and she couldn't stop crying. It hurt too much to stop—but it shouldn't have! She shouldn't be hurting; nothing had gone wrong! It was just a dumb memory of her being a dumb kid; there was nothing there to actually hurt her! Nothing like with Mom, at least!

And yet, it kept hurting, and Sue kept crying.

Despite Sundance's best efforts, Comet eventually noticed the excess despair, letting out a quiet whimper as he tried to look over his shoulder. The vixen intervened fast enough to distract him back and prevent the two other tykes from noticing, keeping tabs on Sue's mental state while at it. Immense pain, but... nothing unexpected, sadly. There was only one way this could've gone from the very start.

Spark might've not been attuned to Sue's emotions, and wasn't feeling as well—or as awake—as she would've liked, but she could still hear Sue's sobs. The sound stirred her back to awareness as she climbed out of her mom's comfort and onto her own four legs, gasping at the state her friend was in. Before her mom could ask her to wait, the kit was already dashing towards her tall friend, nudging her leg with her wet snout.

Sue jerked back at the sensation, pried her eyes wide open as the lil' fox jumped onto her lap and began dispensing affection—and doubled over once more, holding Spark as close as she could with her shaking arms. Seconds turned to minutes as the sound of weeping filled the room, the burning pain deep inside Sue leaving her one sob at a time. It couldn't last forever, but it sure felt like it would, like she'd be stuck here, unable to move on by herself—

She wasn't alone, though.

"^Sue, how are you feeling?^" Sundance asked, concern clear in her voice.

Having a question to respond to hastened Sue's efforts to get in control of herself again. Her success was partial at best, but it far beat the opposite, making her cling to it—and the warm kit in her arms—for all she could. Eventually, words flowed again, staggered and delivered in a constantly cracking voice. "I-I don't know why it hurts so much. H-he was just doing his best, i-it's not his fault. He, *sniff*, he had so much o-on his plate, I had no idea how bad it was u-until he died a couple years ago—"

"^But it still hurts, doesn't it?^"

"I-it SHOULDN'T!"

"^But it does! Your feelings aren't a matter of 'should' or 'should not'. If it hurts, then it means you were hurt—^"

"BUT HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST A-AND HE LOVED ME!"

"^And yet, you were hurt all the same. Over, and over.^"

Sue wanted to snap back, to shout back at her for daring to imply that her dad had hurt her. Yes all this hurt and yes she wished he'd done more things with her and took her places and talked to her more and took her to Mom's grave and read her books to bed and played games with her and did everything she'd heard of other kids doing with their parents but he still loved her and he'd been trying his best! She didn't want to, couldn't blame him for this, not when it was someone she loved so much.

Not when he was the only person she had left.

The vixen had been hesitant to use her telepathy for this beyond finding the right questions to ask, but it would be hard to avoid it this time. "^Sue, this isn't about blame. I don't doubt you at all when you say that your dad loved you and that he was trying his best. I genuinely believe that he had been, just like you. But his actions still hurt you, didn't they?^"

They shouldn't have...

...

...

But they did.

"I-it hurt, yes..." Sue whimpered. "B-but—"

"^But it hurt,^" Sundance cut her off, keeping her mental voice as gentle as she could manage. "^That's all there is to be said—you were hurt. It doesn't make your dad evil; it doesn't mean he didn't love you. All that means is that his actions, or lack thereof, had hurt you. Those we love can still deeply hurt us, even if they're genuinely trying their best.^"

The truth was staring Sue in the face, but she still couldn't face it. She had to keep running, to bring something up that would obscure this ten thousand foot tall mountain of pain and grief staring her in the eye, anything to delay it just that bit longer. Facing it wasn't an option, couldn't have ever been an option.

Because it meant that him never finding the time for her wasn't her fault.

Because it meant that them growing distant wasn't because she was an awful daughter.

Because it meant that she really had done nothing wrong and still ended up like this.

"^You were a child, Sue. You loved your dad, and trusted him to not hurt you. But he did, and that fact alone hurt so much more than what he'd done. It's awful when that happens, especially when we're young enough to not know any better, or worse yet, that we assume it's our fault—but it does happen. Those we love, those we trust wholeheartedly to look after us when we're little... they're just people, too. They make mistakes and can hurt others; they can hurt us. If we don't accept that, if we just keep running away from our emotions after we're hurt like this, then they'll never loosen their grip on us, and we'll be forever stuck at that moment our little hearts broke, unable to move on.^"

It was such a simple truth, so blatantly obvious and excruciating at the same time. Sue tried to go along with Sundance's mental image, to imagine herself as that little girl, how she must've been in that memory, trying her hardest not to show her little broken heart to anyone else.

And, for the first time she could remember, she didn't run. She sat still, watching the ten-year-old that would one day be her try her hardest to blame her dad's avoidance on anything, anyone but him. On herself, only on herself, more eager to gouge her eyes out than to face the facts. She leaned closer, as close as she could get to this child, this scar at the bottom of her mind—

And touched her.​


For a while afterwards, all Sue could hear was her strained breathing. Her heart raced, her eyes sobbed until they had no more tears left within them, her throat grew dry. It couldn't have taken more than a few minutes; the sun was only a bit further ahead in its downward journey—but she felt utterly exhausted. She was of half a mind to fall asleep then and there and let someone else deal with the consequences. But she couldn't, and she didn't.

There were a couple of little people in here with her, looking up to her. She didn't want to hurt them, to accidentally pass on the pain she was only now coming to terms with.

She was still not done processing all the aching, even if it had dulled enough to let her think about something other than itself.

And last—she was hungry, and this chair wasn't that comfortable.

The very final pair of reasons finally made her twitch as she sat back up, shaking hand stroking Spark's back. She was still so, so very lost, no less so because the pain was still there. It had eased up a bit; it no longer threatened to crush her in an instant, but it still surrounded her. What was she to do now?

...

...

She didn't know, but someone in the room did. "S-S-Sundance?" she whimpered.

The vixen turned to face her, a weak smile cutting through the earlier concern. "^Yes, Sue?^"

"It—it still hurts..."

"^It'll keep hurting for a while, I'm afraid. However... there is something we can do to help with it, I reckon.^"

Sue looked up at her mentor, away from Spark's diligent attempts to cheer her up by nuzzling her stomach. "Wh-what do you have in mind?"

"^How much mourning have you done after your dad passed?^"

Such a simple question.

Such a painful answer.

"N-not much, I-I don't think..."

"^Then maybe we should try just that.^"



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
Chapter 32: Purgation


Chapter 32: Purgation



"^Then maybe we should try just that.^"

Sundance's words echoed in Sue's head as she recovered from the blinding pain she'd spent her entire adult life trying to keep hidden. It took a while until her surroundings had turned from an indistinct blur, only dotted by her sixth sense pointing people out to her, back to the vixen's dwelling. And, of course, all the little people present in it. The edges sharpened, and the colors saturated by the moment, until Sue finally felt normal enough to consider Sundance's idea in earnest.

Grieving was something she never cared much for, even when it was just her mom who had tragically left her life. She may have prayed a lot for her to come back, shed mute tears at glimpsing her in the photos around the house before dad took them down, but she never sat down to just... let herself cry over the loss. There was always something else she could do, or that dad wanted her to do, something more active and yet more hopeless. Anything but truly acknowledging what happened.

Because the one person she had left to look up to never truly acknowledged it, either.

It was an awful thing, it happened, and then normalcy resumed, even more pretend than before. On one hand, Sue had a hard time rationally imagining why her dad never did anything like that. Why he never made peace with his wife's loss, why he never noticed that it was eroding the family he still had left, why he never noticed that it was tearing him apart, too. On the other... Sue already knew why. Because she was no better.

Because it hurt so much. Because running away from that pain hurt less in the moment than confronting it, even if not that much less. Because that momentary agony felt so much more imposing than an incomparably larger plateau of suffering, built one distraction at a time. The world could never wait for them, could never wait for her dad. And so, avoiding it became a survival tactic. If it was the only way to keep their family afloat, then it was what had to be done.

And with each passing day, the wound they tried to run away from only festered.

Sue shuddered as she clenched her fist tight, and gritted her teeth at feeling a wave of anger crash against her mind. Anger for what her dad's actions had taken away from her, for every unseen scrape his neglect had left on her psyche until it had accumulated into a goring wound. She wanted to punch and shriek, to scream in fury about all the ways in which he had hurt her, for nobody to understand. For everything he had done,

And which she had inevitably ended up repeating.

The bitter reality delivered another gut punch to Sue's brittle psyche, forcing a stifled cry out of her as tears resumed irrigating her cheeks. They had ended up so much alike, in good and bad. And with that insight, the awareness of how badly all this hurt her inevitably cooled her emotions towards him, too. Worse yet, he didn't even have anyone to help him with it all. Didn't have anyone to step in and give him a hand before all the anguish could metastasize into shame at itself, at one's coping mechanisms becoming so painful it was impossible to even examine them, let alone the wound they obfuscated. Sue looked up at Sundance through blurry vision, smiling weakly as she wordlessly thanked anyone who'd listen for having her around to listen to her...

...

...

I wanted to say 'nonsense' again, didn't I? Is this just another way I've been burying all this for so long?

The split-second realization sobered Sue up just enough to let her wipe the excess tears off her face, and give calming down another attempt. Ultimately, the very thing she'd been running away from for so long had come to pass.

All this hurt! Like an absolute motherfucker! And yet, beyond wanting to lash out at the pain, beyond the subconscious desire to shield her wounds from all sight even as they festered, she felt this pain would be good for her. It wouldn't be pleasant—for anyone—but at last it'd help in closing that entire chapter of her life. Sue could only hope for that, of course. For once, however, doing so was... almost surprisingly easy. She had swum down to the very bottom of her mind, after all.

Nowhere to go but up.

With that realization to comfort her, Sue closed her eyes and breathed deeply, putting herself together enough to resume the unpleasant chat without breaking down again. Before long, though, she felt something touch her arm, some kind of rough fabric—a pillow. A plain canvas pillow, neither the softest nor the most comfortable in the world, but at least something to hold. Something to cry into. Something the vixen on the other end of the room didn't really need three of underneath her and could spare one for her pupil.

As one hand administered pets to Spark and the other wiped her tears with the pillow, Sue craned her head to check up on how the little ones were doing; what kind of drawn masterpieces were they working on? She saw little of the latter. Hard to, with their wooden canvas being obscured by their bodies. To her momentary regret, however, she saw some of the former—and vice versa. Joy's effortless glance over her shoulder left the girl worried, making her drop the stick of charcoal she was holding and waddle over to her guardian.

Her untranslated words sounded concerned, leaving Sue worried about her troubles rubbing off on others. With a few deep breaths, though, she overlooked said worries for long enough to let herself actually address them. She leaned forward, making sure to not accidentally poke the curled-up Spark with her horn, before holding Joy's hand as the girl hugged her uninjured leg.

"I'm here Joy, I'm here," she whispered, shooting the girl a soft, if tired, smile. "I'm crying a bit, yes, but I'm doing well. Sundance is looking out for me, and everything is going to be okay." Of course, the lacking translation was an issue in the other direction too, but Sue didn't hesitate to ask for help. Restoring the translation between her and the kids was best avoided for now—they weren't quite done talking with Sundance, after all—but Joy deserved an explanation. "Sundance, c-could you pass on to her what I just said?"

Sue sighed as the fox responded with a wide smile and a slow, understanding nod. She watched Joy perk up and turn towards the vixen as the words were soundlessly passed onto her, all the while opening the girl to some more affection on her maw. And this time, she'd even figured out how to keep it gentle enough to not startle her.

I really wonder what her skeleton looks like, though.

With the last of the affection received and her guardian's leg held tight one last time, Joy turned around and returned to the play area, catching Twinkle's attention with her sudden return. Or rather, making the ghost realize she had even left to begin with. They turned towards her, and she didn't hesitate to send a wave their way. To her relief, they seemed satisfied with that sight alone, especially when accompanied by Joy saying something to them in her rough, growly, cute voice. They didn't understand it, of course, but their... friend was calm. And that's all that mattered.

And Sue was calm, too. Enough so to finally tackle the heavy topic ahead of them again. "Okay. I-I think I can continue now," she said, petting Spark's back while the lil' fox tried her hardest to huddle even closer to her midriff.

"^Excellent. I hope this conversation has been providing some reprieve, however painful,^" Sundance answered, looking up from the little one's drawings.

"Oh, it's definitely painful; lemme tell you that much," Sue chuckled dryly. "But... yeah, it's still some reprieve, at least. It's easier to understand why I feel this way now. And even though I still do feel that awful way a bit, it's much weaker now. It feels like something I can face now, and not just something I'll have to run away from forever, like—"

Sue blinked at the tangent, thinking back to moments earlier with her thoughts about her dad. She sighed, and continued—"Like he's done in the past, and like I've been doing, too."

"^It gets tiring, doesn't it?^"

The Forest Guardian considered Sundance's question, slowly tilting her head to the sides. "Kiiinda. I suppose moment to moment it does hurt and tire you, but it's also hard to notice it doing that until it gets really strong. Just sits there in the corner, being a vampire and sucking a little bit of our strength at a time."

Sue put on a confident-ish smile at her point, glad to have finally made a decent comparison herself. Or, at least, a decent comparison to a potential audience who knew what the folklore creature she had referred to even was. "^...forgive me for the tangent, but—are there really creatures in your world that feed by sucking others' blood?^"

Oh, Neptune.

At least this question had a straightforward answer. Key word 'had', as the instant Sue thought about it, she realized that just answering with 'no' would commit the worst sin known to man, mutant or god—be technically incorrect. "Yes, but the 'vampires' I offhandedly brought up don't exist. They're—they're a folklore thing. It's only like mosquitoes and leeches that feed on blood like that, I think."

"^Ahhh, lesser beings, then. Either way, I see your intent now, and your comparison is accurate.^"

The phrase 'lesser beings' sounded very unlike what Sue expected Sundance to ever say, and a part of her really wanted to inquire about just what she meant by that. Alas, said part was summarily overruled by all the other neurons, eager to keep up their streak of tackling uncomfortable topics and get into the next step of the process. "I'm glad. So, this mourning. Is there anything specific you mean by that, or just... crying about the dead for a while until the tears stop?"

"^Your description is broadly correct. However, it ideally is much more than just crying,^" Sundance clarified. "^Beyond just expressing sadness, it's supposed to be a time for us to come to terms with all our feelings about those we lost, and let them out. Further still, even that description is incomplete, as it is just one kind of mourning.^"

Sue raised her eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'one kind'? What other kinds of mourning are there, then?"

The smirk on her mentor's expression grew two sizes at her words—seems she had inadvertently walked right into the point the vixen had wanted her to. "^The other one that I feel is relevant here is mourning for what wasn't. If you feel you're capable of it, think of what else you've lost with your parents' passing, beyond simply them as people.^"

The once-human wasn't yet convinced this wasn't a point made entirely out of pedantry, but she played along. "You mean like, their house, or...?"

"^Your future with them.^"

Sue leaned back at the straightforward clarification—and remained somewhat confused. Because... yeah, that kinda went without saying, didn't it? She lost her parents, which by definition also meant losing the future she could've had with them. "Riiiight. That feels kinda obvious," she muttered, uncertain.

"^Oh, I am not saying that it isn't obvious—but that, obvious as it is, we still need to mourn for it. Mourn for the future we never had, memories we could never remember, achievements we could never cherish. All the things we could never be, the different paths our lives might have taken, but didn't because of reasons outside of our control.^"

The clarification helped. To Sue's surprise, even it was enough to stir some emotion within her, catching her by surprise as she thought back to the times when she remembered hurting for that stolen future. "I-I used to daydream a lot about my mom turning out to have survived, or having suddenly showed up when everyone thought she was dead, and our life magically returning to how it was before. Is... is it something like that?" Sue asked, wiping her face of the tears that had sneaked up on her as she went over her childhood hopes.

"^Exactly. They... they are sweet. I know full well just how alluring it can be, that pretense that things hadn't gone wrong. And maybe, in some other time, some other world, things would indeed have not gone wrong. But they did in our world, and at some point we have to make peace with that. To look at everything we've lost, all the paths through our lives that had been stolen from us by cruel Fate or someone else's actions, and accept that they're gone without lingering on them.^" Sue was about to respond with an immediate point, before the vixen put a bow on her idea, taking her pupil aback. "^And to accept ourselves as we are, on the path we had either stumbled upon or been forced into.^"

Sue shifted nervously in her seat, one pointed fingertip repeatedly tapping on the pillow in her grasp. She didn't mind the broad outlines of Sundance's point, but didn't feel comfortable with all the implications. "What if the 'things that had gone wrong' were awful and preventable, though? I-I guess it's one thing if it's just entirely bad luck, but what if the thing that went wrong was something that can be stopped? Shouldn't we use the events that happened as motivation to ensure they won't happen again?"

Sundance nodded firmly. "^We should, you're correct!^"

...

"I feel like I'm missing something," Sue admitted, petting Spark's back.

"^Sounds likely, yes. To elaborate on my point—making peace with the tragedies that have happened is not the same as not finding them atrocious. It's not the same as not fighting to make sure nobody else suffers the same fate, either. More than anything else, it is accepting that they have happened and that their awful consequences are here to stay, without denial or fury. As with everything else—you cannot move on if you're unwilling to acknowledge where you stand.^"

Sue stewed on her thoughts before responding, chuckling under her breath at how tied together everything she'd discussed with Daisy and Sundance over the past couple of days had been. The topic differed each time, of course—guidance on facing one's desires wouldn't ever be identical to a pep talk about how to learn to move on from mistakes—but the core thrust remained the same.

It all starts by facing oneself in the mirror, and coming to terms with what one finds there.

The realization calmed Sue down more than she expected it to. Maybe because it was another hint that she was on the right track, maybe because she'd walked this general trail enough times by now to make the rest of this trek easier than what came before. That didn't mean she didn't have any objections, or any doubts about some finer points—but this entire neighborhood of her mind was one that only ever grew more familiar with each passing day. Once terrifying, once disgusting, and now?

Now, it's just in need of some professional cleaning. Doubt these chats with Sundance count as more than a broom and a dustpan, but they still beat nothing.

"R-right. If there's anything else I've learned so far, it's that, heh. I still have more questions if it's alright."

The vixen smiled. "^It always is, worry not Sue.^"

"About being at peace and accepting ourselves with how we are now. Won't that lead to complacency? None of us are perfect, and I've always felt like I should strive to be a better person, even if my execution has sometimes been... yeah. B-but, if we get too comfortable with ourselves as we are right now, won't that lead to us just falling into complacency and resting on our laurels, so to say?"

Sundance's eyes danced around the room as her blunt claws tapped rhythmically on the stone floor. Of all the responses Sue expected from her mentor, a cheeky chuckle wasn't one of them—especially not one accompanied by such a sharp point. "^That sounds like it would only be a serious issue if you think that you as you are right now isn't enough and that you need improving.^"

Sue froze at the piercing remark, mentally scrambling to find a response. Try as she might to deny it because of it being reaching, though, the vixen's point struck true the actual motivation behind Sue's point, leaving her hunching over in her seat. Guess for all her progress, she still had a lot left to do. It was a realization that would've been crippling to face just a few days ago, and now...

She felt just about strong enough to keep moving on.

Just because her mentor was right, it didn't mean she had nothing to say in response. A response that never came, however, as the vixen out-sped her once more, continuing her point. "^If you genuinely believe you ought to improve something about yourself, then no—it is not an excuse for that. It has to come from your desires, however, from you looking at who you truly are and only then deciding on what, if anything, you ought to change. It is much too easy to look at all the people you could have been and exclaim that those are who you should be, however possible that feat even is.^"

'Coulda' and 'shoulda', my old, beloathed friends.

"^I cannot claim to know what person you truly wish to become, Sue, so I ask you—what is the one trait you wish you had more in abundance?^"

Sue nodded absentmindedly, calming her fidgeting hands by holding the pillow closer as she thought through the question. The answer was 'many different things on many different occasions', but from them all, there was one thread that was clearer to see than others. "I suppose I could stand to be more courageous—w-with the Northeast matter and all."

"^That is what you discussed with Daisy earlier today, if my memory holds?^" the vixen asked. Her pupil nodded firmly, making her continue—"^In that case, some other area would be preferable. Not to diminish what her chat with you had accomplished or the relief it provided, but I believe an older, much older example might illustrate my point better.^"

It was time to dive into the mental murk of memories again, and Sue... dreaded it less than she thought it would. It was still unpleasant, obviously, but shifting her focus from the events of the past couple days lessened shame's grip significantly. And since Sundance asked her for something 'much older', Sue guessed she meant an occasion from before she had become one of Duck's own chosen. "Before I ended up here, I wasn't very social. In college—think like an advanced school for adults—I was always too scared of people to talk much, so I stayed this eternal outsider. It didn't feel good then, and it doesn't feel good thinking back to it now, heh..."

"^That is a great start. What does thinking about that situation make you feel?^"

"Just kinda embarrassed. Not terrible or anything, but I continuously flunked my one good chance to meet people. I already had a year of it taken away because of the pandemic we had at the time, so the remaining time was even more important. It felt like I should've, had to take that opportunity because once it ended, meeting any other friends would be impossible. Which... I now realize is something that is quite hard to believe considering how social Moonview is," Sue chuckled, gaze sweeping nervously around the floor.

"^Well—yes,^" Sundance admitted, looking at her pupil in disbelief, "^but that isn't the point. The point is about how that self-perceived failure made you feel.^"

"Disappointed, mostly. It was something simple I knew I could do, I knew I should do, but which I never did, and eventually just seeing the cafeteria was a big downer in itself and so I stopped—oh."

The vixen tried—and failed—to hold in a chuckle. "^Ha. I will spare you another conversation about how shame ties into it all, because you already have a decent grip on it. Instead, let me ask you this—why do you think you didn't rise to your expectations?^"

That was something much simpler to answer. "Because I was scared of people. S-still kinda am, even. And everyone already had their cliques, and I was worried I'd come off weird if I just sat down with someone, and... piles upon piles of other reasons. Most of them probably silly."

"^Not silly if your mind takes them seriously enough to act on them. Misguided, incorrect, sure—'silly' is not the right adjective for them, since those impulses aren't stupid. They're not fooling around, they're not pranking you into coming short of your goals, they're doing what they can based on what you've been through,^" Sundance clarified.

Her pupil rolled her eyes. "Sure, incorrect then, nitpicking."

"^I disagree with it being nitpicking, but—not the point. Now, why do you think all those misguided impulses had their hooks in you?^"

This was where the conversation stepped into painful territory. Nowhere near as blindingly excruciating as it would've been mere hours ago, but still unpleasant. "Probably from how I grew up with my parents, right? I wasn't a very social kid even before... even before I lost my mom, and after, it got even worse and I basically became a shut-in growing up. Never as bad as some people on the internet—I still showered and didn't become a violent misanthrope—but it wasn't pretty. Guess that was enough to just make social interaction too scary by the time college came."

"^Are you surprised, then, that you failed to reach the expectations you had set at that point?^"

"Surprised? No, obviously," Sue chuckled, sighing in defeat. "It was quite the predictable outcome. I still felt disappointed, though."

"^Why, though? If you acknowledge it was predictable, then why feel disappointed with it?^" Sundance kept pressing the point—much to Sue's confusion.

"Because I could've done better! Yes, it was unlikely, but it was still possible."

"^That 'better' word you used there is quite indicative. That's not what I want to focus on, however. More so on the assertion that you 'could' have done better.^"

Sue blinked. What in the world did Sundance mean by that? Obviously she could've done much better; she had free will. It wasn't some magically impossible task for her. "Is there... something wrong with that assertion? Of course I could've done better."

Without skipping a beat, her mentor doubled down—"^Could you? From the explanation you just provided for why you think you fell short of your expectations, it certainly sounds like the odds of you accomplishing them were vanishing, if even that.^"

"It wasn't likely, no, but it was still possible," Sue insisted, growing slightly annoyed. "It wasn't a problem for almost anyone else there. Yes, I grew up as a shut-in, but there was no other way for me to get to where I wanted to be but to keep trying, even if it hurt."

"^Was it where you wanted to be, or where others insisted you should be?^"

The line between these two was a blurry one. Even in her terseness, Sue wasn't naïve enough to think that her desires were pure and untainted by her surroundings. The influence was there; the pressure was there; but in the end, they only acted on a yearning that has been there all along. "Where I wanted to be, yes."

Sundance waited for a few moments, looking over Sue with a raised eyebrow. In not too long, she was satisfied with what she saw and sensed, though—Sue had really meant it. "^Good! So, you wanted to talk to people more, wanted to become that more social Sue, right?^"

"An odd way to phrase it, but yes."

"^Was that more social Sue someone you could have become, considering what you told me about your experiences with your parents?^"

Sue was getting an idea of where Sundance was trying to lead this entire discussion towards, and she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. "Yes, of course I could—actually, lemme just ask that head-on. Are you trying to imply that it was impossible for me to become more social?"

"^From what you've described so far, yes—barring any external influence outside of your control.^"

"So I... shouldn't have even tried to get better?" Sue asked, disbelieving.

"^That is not what I said~. Striving to become better is admirable, yes, but refusing to acknowledge one's circumstances in that striving only leads to further misery. Because of reasons outside of your control, you went through years of not receiving the attention you needed. You grew up lonely and weren't as good at socializing as you wished you were, on top of eventually losing your dad, too. These are not setbacks we can just brute force our way through, they require help from others.^"

It might not have been the bad-faith interpretation Sue had brought up earlier, but she still wasn't entirely convinced. "So what was I supposed to do instead if I was so doomed? There's nothing I could've done about what happened to my parents."

"^Yes, exactly!^" Sundance replied, making her pupil's heart skip a beat. "^Nothing you could've done there, nothing you could've done to prevent yourself from ending up in that miserable spot you ended up in. And from there, is there any wonder you failed to pull yourself out of that dark pit alone?^"

"No, but—" Sue began, cutting herself off right as she noticed the vixen perking up, as if about to stop her herself. She waited for long enough for her mentor to come to rest again, receiving nothing but an amused smirk in return. "I'm still not sure where you are going with all this, in all honesty."

The vixen nodded, taking a moment to gather words before replying, her voice creeping towards seriousness again. "^Let me be as direct as I can, then. It's not about not trying to be better, it's not about thinking you're a perfect being that needs no changes. It is, above everything else, accepting ourselves as we are, together with our shortcomings brought onto us by forces beyond our control, without shame. It's about not using 'what could've been' as a cudgel to beat 'what is' with. It's about realizing where our limitations lay, and reaching outwards for help with overcoming them if we feel we need to do so.^"

Now that was something more concrete—but also, which left a detail unaddressed. "But what if that help never comes?" Sue asked. "Or what if we keep reaching out for it, doing our best to change ourselves and reaching for others, only for all of them to ignore or blow us off? What if we fail?"

"^Then that... *sigh*, is a sad outcome,^" Sundance whispered, memory venturing towards all the people in her past who didn't succeed despite their best efforts. "^That is an important point as well. Not blaming ourselves in such a situation is one thing—we did our best—but it is not the crux of the issue now, is it? Ultimately, it's an argument and encouragement to help those you can; for us all to help one another. Sometimes, a nudge is all a person needs. Sometimes, it's just having someone, anyone by their side to ease the load of their anguish.^"

All wonderful messages—but still incomplete. "So, if you're unlucky enough to not have anyone to help when you need it, you just... fail? Die?" Sue knew the answer to that question already. Earth had already beaten it into her plenty. She still hoped that her mentor would have some out, just to let her avoid that cruel reality for a bit longer.

"^It is possible to make no mistakes and still lose, yes. Pretending we're in complete control of our Destiny is a blanket of falsehood that lets us avoid acknowledging that grim fact. Avoid facing our successes not being entirely our own, and avoid facing others' failures not being theirs. Comforting as it may be at times, it is still a lie. One as harmful to us as it is to others.^"

Sue nodded idly as she took the wisdom in, shaking in her seat despite Spark's warmth. She wasn't ever particularly religious, not even when both her parents were still alive and regularly took her to church, but the comfort of preordained Destiny wasn't lost to her. The prayer that doesn't ask for a different, more just world, but one that claims the world is already just as is. Where everything happens for a reason, where those who succeed are saints and those who fail sinners, where everything is its own justification.

Where there is no Capricious, Fateful Chaos—merely a Just, Destined Order.

A very cold, cruel world.

Even if she knew better than to assume that everything that happened to others was their own fault, it was exceedingly hard to pull all the hooks that line of thinking had left in her mind. Despite being reassured again and again, ad nauseam and then some, she had a hard time seeing her being unable to make those changes she wanted to, not being able to apologize to Northeast when she had that chance, as only a personal failure. As only her own sin.

Sue was trying her best to pull them away, at least temporarily, and it was just barely possible now that she was consciously aware of them. She didn't know how long such a state would last, though. Had to make it count. "H-how do I just... accept myself, both back then and now? How do I look over all my flaws, all the things I did wrong, all of it?"

"^You do not look over them,^" Sundance replied, keeping her voice calm at seeing the tension shoot through her pupil's body. "^You accept them, too. Pretending your flaws don't exist doesn't bring freedom—it merely gives them more power over us, lets them bind us all the more effectively. No, you need to embrace them, just as you embrace your strengths. Make peace with yourself as you are, woeful and flawed, burdened by grief and shame and a thousand different scars that make up our minds—and yet, beautiful all the same. As are we all.^"

Spark's quiet whimpers went unheard as Sue tried to focus, closing her eyes and gripping the pillow tight. Her mentor continued; "^Don't let those echoes of paths untaken, of things that could've been, of the people you could've become, browbeat you into misery over not being who you could never be. I don't think they would like that, anyway—to know they're used in malice, as a mallet for your mind to inflict harm onto you with.^"

Sue tried to focus on herself in the way the vixen had described, tried to encompass all of who she was as a person and bring it into her arms to embrace—but couldn't. She could try to make peace with some of it, with not fulfilling some of her dreams, but many parts of her psyche were still just too raw to touch. If she was to grow more comfortable accepting her mistakes, this sounded like a good one to take on—not being ready for the worst of that introspection.

Doesn't mean I can't do anything else, though.

Instead, she clasped her hands and clenched her eyes even tighter, shifting gears towards the kind of mourning she was more familiar with but one she'd still not done as much as she probably ought to. Sue thought back to her parents, trying to put together a vague prayer in her mind based on the little she could still recall from church. She doubted anything she'd come up with would comply with what her local priest's teachings, but neither she nor they cared for that. The latter, not least, thanks to no longer sharing a universe with her.

She had to start somewhere. And of the two people she'd lost, one was much more recent, and the wound left in their wake much larger.

Dad?

Her mental whisper into the void went unanswered, but she was too focused to care.

I-I hope you're happy, Dad, wherever you are. It's been hard to really process it all, everything that happened to both of us after Mom died. I'm only now realizing just what kind of impact it left on me, and it's scary to think about. I don't want to be angry at you. You were just as stuck in that position as I was, after all—weren't you?

Sue's expression scrunched, tears remaining in their ducts thanks to sheer willpower alone.

Just like I ended up in a spot where I couldn't grow more social by myself, you... you weren't able to come to terms with it all, were you? It's so obvious in hindsight, good god. We were both so destroyed by it all, maybe you even more than me. It's little wonder we ended up like we did. I wish you would've reached out for help when you had the chance. Maybe it would've helped us both overcome her loss sooner, maybe it would've at least helped me. I don't know, and... I don't think fantasizing like that is the best idea, either. All I know is that you tried your best, but I was still hurt afterwards for years to come. I miss you.

It was awkward; it was painful; but she was doing it.

I don't have to be ashamed of the person I became anymore, though. I don't—don't want to be ashamed.

Sue focused on that thought, repeating it in her mind as many times as she could stomach. She wasn't sure what effect it was supposed to have, whether the relief from it was supposed to be immediate or not. Either way, it wasn't doing as much as she wanted it to, even if she could feel the headache-inducing pressure in her head grow just a bit more bearable with each repetition.

The relief didn't last forever, and at a certain point the words had turned from reassurance to just empty sounds—as good a moment as any to take a breath and refocus onto something else. Mourning for her dad had been a… limited success, which left her antsy about how doing the same with her mom would go.

Only one way to find out.

Mom?

To her relief, the thoughts associated with her other parent were much easier to stomach, despite the much more gruesome way in which she'd lost her. There wasn't any drawn-out decline to remember, no second hand shame or trauma passed onto her. Only the image of a loving, radiant woman, colored that much rosier with the passage of time, and the accident that took her life.

I hope you're happy too, Mom. It's been so long, and I still think of you often. I remember the things we did together, all the camping trips you took me to, all the guitar lessons you gave me, all the strawberry ice cream you got me whenever I was feeling down.

The memories ached to be recalled, and the fight against her own expression of sadness was swiftly lost. Though, in a way, those were the easy, straightforward tears, something she knew that at least she had the full right to cry over.

It hurts to know you're gone. I wish you were still with me, that you were there to see me grow up and how similar I ended up looking—but you weren't. And I think... I think I'm finally okay with that. I think I'm ready to move on, after all these years. I still love you so, so much though, and I wish I could've expressed that to you while you were still around. I'll be okay now, I think. I have people looking after me, little people I look after, m-maybe even someone looking at me the same way you looked at Dad. Maybe if you'd been there, then stuff with Dad wouldn't be anywhere near that bad, but—it's okay. It's okay.

Sue held in a small flinch at that last point, at the release of tension turning sour because of the impact her mom could've had on her dad. She ignored that thread in her mind, hurriedly shoving it off to the side to concentrate on everything else instead. To grieve and mourn over the things she was ready to, to make a long overdue peace with that reality.

And, that small tangent aside, she'd managed just that.

Goodbye, Mom. I'll always love you.

The discarded thought was still there, small and shriveled and refusing to be forgotten wholly. For better or worse, she'd just have to endure it for now, grumbling to herself as she withdrew from her focused state. It wasn't a total success, not by a long shot—but it was progress. She didn't succeed at everything she wanted to, but... it was okay. It was okay to not succeed at things.

Things were okay.

With one final deep breath, Sue pulled her palms apart and opened her eyes—and almost broke into laughter instantly at the sight that awaited her. On the floor, beside her seat, Joy and Twinkle were mimicking her prayer to the best extent their respective anatomies allowed them to. The metal girl was clasping her hands while pointing both her face and her maw at the floor, while the bundle of ghost beside her was reaching up with a pair of tentacles, intertwining them in lieu of keeping them pressed together.

Both of them sat still and with closed eyes—and they weren't even the only ones in that regard. Further into the room, beside Sundance, Comet was just as focused as his friends pretended to be, entirely still as he sensed all the emotions in the room, now that Sundance had dispelled her sparkling barrier. Sue wouldn't maintain her focus at seeing all the tykes being so focused, and as much as she tried to hold her amusement in,

She just couldn't pull it off, not this time.

Instead, she broke into loud, relieved giggles, forcing Spark to scramble off her lap as she leaned in and pulled both the little ones onto it. Their reactions were positively confused, squeaking and clinging to their guardian as Comet babbled and wriggled at the emotions in the room finally clearing up. Twinkle wasted no time wrapping as many of their tentacles around Sue's stomach as they could, easing out only with her touch. Joy, in the meantime, pulled the arm, petting her into a tight hug—and spotted the glistening wetness on her cheeks. Taken aback, she asked, "M-more cry?"

Indeed—but those are the good sort of tears.

Glad at her mentor for having restored the translation in the room, Sue responded. "Mhm! I'm—I'm still doing good, Joy, and Sundance is still helping me. I was sad earlier, but I'm good now. Those were good tears."

Fascinated, Joy nodded at every translated word. "T-Tears not bad?"

A smile bloomed on Sue's face before she even realized it, the pride accompanying it warm and radiant. "Not always, no," she answered. "Some tears can be good. And even the 'bad' tears aren't naughty or anything. It's okay to cry."

It was such a massive insight for the lil' metal girl she had a hard time processing it all, her hold of her guardian's arm growing weaker as she considered it. No words in response—only a lot of relief and scooting even closer to the tall psychic's body.

Just a couple feet away, a much older girl had her own question. "Are you feeling better, Sue?" Spark asked, leaning on her friend's uninjured leg.

Not as much as Sue would've wanted, but... yeah, the answer wasn't really debatable. "Yeah, I'm feeling better now, had a long and very needed talk. Thank you, Sparkie."

"Yay yay yay—*ow*," the fiery kit shuddered, curling up to Sue as she turned around to address her mom. "Thanks, mom!"

"You are very welcome, sweetie," Sundance replied, clearing her throat as she switched back to spoken word.

Sue looked up at her mentor, the wordless gratitude clear in her expression. "Still a lot of... well, everything on my mind, and I'm quite tired, but I am better now, I'm sure."

"That is great to hear, Sue. None of this is easy, and any progress is something to cherish and be proud of," the vixen beamed. "And speaking of nothing being easy," she groaned, her expression noticeably faltering. Before Sue could speak up in concern, Sundance looked over her shoulder towards a basket of elongated sticks. She then rifled through them with her mental grasp, before settling on the straightest, most cane-like one. "I sure wouldn't mind having something to eat before bedtime."

Won't say no to that either.


Sue didn't even think about dissuading her mentor away from going out on a walk—she sure was attempting it in a much more responsible way than her pupil could've ever claimed to. Instead, she stuck to the vixen's side, offering her a shoulder to lean on, alongside her makeshift cane. The resulting march wasn't fast, but it was much more steady than Sue's early attempts at walking, while inflicting notably less injury to the vixen with her every step.

Not an especially high bar to clear, but Duck be my witness, it is possible to fail it hard.

Even Comet was cooperating so far, not wriggling too hard even as he squeaked in Sue's arms. He took up most of her attention, leaving the other little ones to march beside the adults on the ground. They didn't seem to mind that—all it meant was that Twinkle clung to Joy's maw instead of Sue's torso, the difference in weight unnoticeable for the girl. And even if it had been, having a wispy, pitch-black tentacle to hold with her hand as they walked through Moonview was worth all the extra weight. Spark walking beside her, keeping her company and warm, helped too.

If only she'd been tall enough to hold Sue's hand.

The increasingly orange sunlight nudged them to keep up their pace, but they weren't in any rush. For once, they could take their time, get comfortable, and just have something to eat. Tomorrow would be a big day for some of them, even if Sue was still doubtful if she even should contribute to carrying all the supplies towards Newmoon. Largely because... yeah, there was no way she'd be carrying anything worth a damn there, not with her slow pace and general roughed up state.

On the other hand, maybe they'd be happy to see her again? Even then, just getting there was itself a problem Sue didn't know how to solve. Again, something for tomorrow. Right now, they had arrived at the clearing.

The bulk of the tables were already occupied, but there were a couple of stragglers, and a few more that had just one or two people sitting at them. Sundance homed in on the almost-empty one not far from Poppy's stall, the plate of the person sitting there already almost empty. Sue, however... was focused on somewhere else.

Someone else.

To her relief, Sundance didn't react as she paused, instead trying to make it the rest of the way to the table by herself. It gave her pupil all the time needed to chew through the sight, her pointed fingers nervously tapping on her forearm as she thought through what to do here. Because she wanted to do something with the sight ahead, didn't want to waste the first good chance she had to talk with them in a while.

But what exactly she could talk about with Willow, she didn't know. She still didn't trust them, but... there were just so many unanswered questions. They weren't feeling angry or vengeful, merely distraught and broadly sad. Enough so to draw quiet, concerned squeaks from the lil' Moon Child in her arms, but nothing more.

Sue just couldn't get it. Couldn't comprehend how someone who had been so incredibly kind toward her and Joy could have such an issue with the night kin, something that should've meant so much less to them since they weren't even psychic themselves. She didn't understand—but wanted to. For all her past anger towards them, she didn't want to just leave them there, didn't want to discard them over just that. There had to have been an answer to this, maybe something she could say to sway them the other way. What exactly... she didn't know. Couldn't know. Only one way to find out.

Joy's harsh, confused squeak snapped her out of any further daze, prompting her to catch up and take a seat at the edge of the bench. Joy and Twinkle to her side, Comet on her lap, Sundance off to the stall. A perfect opportunity to chill and grab her bearings. If not for one tiny logistical detail, that is, one that she'd have to intervene with sooner rather than later.

No way is Sunny gonna be able to carry all the dishes by herself.

Sue patted the two kids and got up, walking up to the fox right as she was talking to the unpleasant ghost behind the counter. Trying to not pay attention to Hazel, she spoke up. "I-I don't think you'll be able to carry it all back to the table."

"—and for them—oh? Well..." the vixen began, searching through her mind for an excuse that would let her carry the dishes regardless, to let her feel more helpful. Alas, no catch, again and again. Her psychics weren't reliable, and her physical paws especially weren't, either—best to just call this one a loss. "Sure, sure," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Before I head off, I need to finish the order. Any requests?"

"I suppose something sweet for me and the little ones? Don't have anything more specific in mind, sorry," Sue answered. Comet didn't even come close to understanding her words, but couldn't resist squirming in her arms at the mention of sweetness.

"Sure," Sundance replied, taking the lil' Forest Guardian from Sue. "Hazel, something sugary and nourishing for Sue and all three little ones, please. Wonderful." With that, she headed off to the bench, Comet vocalizing his displeasure at being carried away from all the yummy scents through his many baby sounds.

Truthfully, Sue didn't care for a waiter position, especially not while possibly having to deal with any more of Hazel's... pranks? Shenanigans? Assaults? All three fit in different measures. Either way—not for her, and she made that distaste clear by leaning on the stall's wall and looking away from the ghost. To her dismay, that didn't guarantee she'd be left alone, and she was very aware of that. Though, considering the intense discussion going on between Poppy and her wife, she might've just been able to get through this without any further incidents.

Sue couldn't care one Duck less what they were talking—or more accurately, bickering—about, keeping her gaze trained on something that brought her joy instead. Namely, Joy. And Twinkle, too, the two soon catching onto their guardian smiling at them from afar and waving at her as hard as they could manage. Adorable enough to melt her heart on the spot? Check. More than welcome considering all the struggles and strains of the past day? Check. Eagerly replied to in kind? Check.

Rudely interrupted? Check.

Hazel's ethereal, croaky voice made Sue jump a bit, afraid to look at the prankster that now stood beside her, lest even more nonsense happened. Still, it seemed like she had no choice. She kept her expression flat as her eyes met Hazel's fiercely red ones. And, for the first time in her recollection, she saw in there one emotion in particular that seemed to be the ghost's anathema—hesitation.

Without any reply on Sue's end, Hazel spoke up again. Unfortunately, the communication would be necessary. Pushing through the many, many desires to flip her off or continue to just stare idly at her in a sort of juvenile battle of disrespect, Sue sighed and went through her linking ritual. Her arms were sore after a long day and she really, really didn't want to deal with the ghost's nonsense, but figured Hazel felt just about the same and wouldn't be bothering with her unless it was important.

Dial-up noises, dial-up noises, ding! There.

"*Sigh.* Yes, Hazel?" Sue spoke, not even trying to mask her emotions.

The ghost blinked, taken aback at her bluntness. Still, she continued. "Wanna... thank for caring Joy and lil' ghost," she grumbled.

It was Sue's turn to be stunned, focusing on Hazel as she tried to suss out whether there was any ulterior motive to her words, any sense of mischief in her mind. No such thing as far as she could tell, with the ghost's emotions dominated by unease, mixed with warmth as she turned towards the kids in the distance herself. The once-human still wasn't entirely convinced that the interaction was in good faith, but... why not play along. "Um... thank you, Hazel. I'm glad I could help them out, too, especially Twinkle. The ghost," she added, sensing the seed of confusion in the ghost's mind.

"Bag ghost Twinkle," Hazel chuckled, her unnatural smile gradually creeping back to its full size. "Very happy, they."

"I hope so, yeah."

The conversation wasn't gonna be winning any awards for the best flow or the least awkwardness, but at least it was progressing. Not even that was enough for the pink cook behind the counter, though. Poppy raised her twinkly voice from behind the backdrop of searing sounds, leaving Hazel cringing despite its gentleness. "Really?" she asked in return, looking over her shoulder with an embarrassed, almost pleading expression.

The unenthused flatness and tapping of Poppy's foot against the beaten dirt floor she got in return straightened her out soon enough.

Take that, you—

"Want sorry for prank," Hazel unknowingly cut the nasty thought off, almost bluescreening Sue's mind.

Out of everything she expected the ghost to do, apologizing was almost at the very bottom of the list. Though... sure, the apology was entirely unlike her, but when it was nudged by her wife and also motivated by Twinkle doing better under Sue's wings... she supposed she could see it.

Anger was tiring, and she really didn't want to push herself through any more of it. Sure, why not. "Well... thank you, Hazel. Apology accepted." Sue then did something she knew was a bad idea, bracing for regretting it soon.

Second by second, the hand she'd extended towards the ghost remained un-taken and un-pranked, though. Until, at last, she felt the unnaturally cold touch return her handshake, without anything underhanded. Hazel was even appropriately anguished for wasting such an occasion to inflict misery on prank someone, only proving to Sue that she meant it this once. "Thank, Sue. Look Twinkle, please."

"I will."

With the handshake over, Hazel wasted no time retreating into the kitchen, to Sue's relief. She returned moments later, carrying a wooden plate and a couple of small bowls. The two more bowls Poppy then placed on the counter in her wake, one larger and one smaller, completed the order. Sue realized what was going on just soon enough to grab them before the ghost could get back, wanting to bring them to the table herself. That's what she was there for, after all.

Ignore the thick, sweet aromas emanating from the bowls, please.

With all the bowls brought over and the little ones sat down in places where they could eat from them—mostly on the table—they all got to eating. Everyone sans Sundance and Twinkle got the same meal, though the portion sizes differed. It almost reminded Sue of one of the very unhealthy kinds of cereal. Marble-sized, gently fried balls of what seemed to be molasses-flavored cookie dough, mixed with seared black... spheres. They kinda looked like the individual granules blackberries were made of, but scaled up to the size of blueberries, tasting somewhere between the two. All that drizzled with a pinch of ginger and three pinches of sugar.

It was almost enough to make Sue overlook the topic her mind had latched onto earlier, especially when she crunched through the individual marbles of dough and berry and let their flavors mix in her mouth. Only almost, however. Sooner or later, it'd still return, and only nag her into finishing her meal faster before she'd waste the opportunity.

Once her greedy fingers felt nothing but the wood of the bowl and a few loose grains of sugar at its bottom, she made her move. Without saying a word, she got up, looked past Sundance's furrowed brows, and made her way to a table further into the clearing.

Willow was still there, having long since wrapped up their meal, but still lost in thought. It was only when she sat down at the opposite end of the table did they finally notice her presence, perking up as their eyes went wide. For a moment, Sue worried they'd just run away there and then, unable to look her in the eyes ever again. The medic sure looked like they were about to do it... and then, they deflated with a sigh, resigning themselves to whatever was to follow.

One more repetition of her ritual, one more ache in her horn—onto a long overdue conversation. "Good evening, Willow."

They perked up at her voice, looking away with an absentminded nod. "Evening, Sue. Hope day good, injury good. What thank for presence here?"

"I want to ask you something."

They didn't immediately react to the elaboration, evidently waiting for the inevitable follow up. Before Sue was about to present it, though, someone else butted in, someone that brought a pained smile to both their faces.

Joy smiled brightly at the medic who had bandaged her maw just days prior, waving and pointing at where the barely visible by now scar was. After her efforts were acknowledged with a gentle head pat, she ran towards her guardian, squealing happily as she was lifted onto the bench beside Sue without another word. At least she was happy about this interaction.

With one hand passed onto the girl for holding, Sue got to thinking, mobilizing whatever wits she still had about her to come up with the question. The one that would accurately sum up all her feelings about the medic, about their past, about their choices and beliefs, about their situation. One that would cut through this jagged, uncomfortable contradiction and maybe even convert them to her position.

Alas, try as she might, the words escaped her. Which left the fallback option, one almost as evocative if much simpler.

"Why?"​



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
Chapter 33: Ghosts


Chapter 33: Ghosts



Willow stared at Sue as the question washed over them, confusing yet clear in equal measure. They glanced away from her, expression twisting into an uncomfortable grimace as they tried to interpret it in some other way. No obvious alternatives presented themselves, but the medic wouldn't let that get to them—Sue had to have meant something else, right? Of course she had to; there was no way she'd just barge in with a topic this heavy.

Or, at least, that's what their uncertain mind clung onto as an excuse. "What 'why', Sue?" they asked, forcefully putting on a soft, tired smile. "Not sure you mean."

To their dismay, Sue wouldn't let them have said excuse for long. "Why are you supporting Root and his plans?" she clarified, trying her hardest to keep her voice from getting too accusative. She was confused, she was disappointed, and she was even angry to an extent, but that wasn't something she wanted Willow to see. Despite everything, she trusted them to engage with her as an equal, to have reasons for their actions that went beyond simple bigotry.

They had to have been different. Right?

And, fortunately for them both, the chubby medic had their reasons. They weren't comfortable thinking about them even at the best of times, and the distraction of Joy's adorable, confused self could only help so much, but they didn't run or mouth her off for daring to ask. Their paws tapped on the rough wood of the table—or on each other—as their gaze jumped all over the place, until finally hiding behind their eyelids. There, Willow had an answer, something to get Sue off their case. Hopefully. "Not me place to question forefather faith."

Sue narrowed her eyes. "But this isn't just their faith, right? As far as I understand it, D—the Pale Lady has been worshiped in this wider area for a long time, and that hasn't changed. It's not like Solstice is championing to demolish her altar. Or, say, banish all her worshipers from Moonview," she snarkily added—and cursed herself for doing so immediately afterwards.

To her relief, Willow didn't burst into anger at her jab, focusing on arguing her point instead. "Solstice still pressure our faith. But when she come, siblings still alive."

She lifted her eyebrow at their point, wondering what their siblings had to do with anything. They were their own person, and if maintaining the unbroken sanctity of their ancestral bigotry was such a priority for them, they would've been devoted to that cause from the get go. Even beyond that, their assertion still left room to be argued against.

At least, so Sue thought.

She had much less confidence about her idea than she wished she had, forcing her to take her piercing gaze off the medic to focus. Before she could get too far into it, though, she felt a tug on her arm. Joy was staring back at her, confused and uneasy at the chat going on around her.

No easy way out of this, I'm afraid.

Sue pointed back at the rest of the group, trying to suggest Joy go there instead, but the girl steadfastly refused. She was uncomfortable; she wanted reassurance; she wanted her big friend to make things right—which said friend was entirely eager to do. Sitting on her lap helped, carefully leaning on her torso and hearing her heartbeat helped even more, even if it left the toothy girl staring at her bandaged spike from an inch away. Which just left offering one hand for her to hold in the tip of her maw, the other for her to hold in her little arms, and voilà. One soothed, metal girl, trying her hardest to relax in her guardian's comfort.

By the time Sue was done comforting her, Willow had already shed much of their built-up discomfort, leaning over the table to watch Joy with a genuinely affectionate expression. Alas, it wasn't to last, especially once their eyes met Sue's once more, making them sit back down and sigh as their interrogation continued.

"Why would your siblings being alive make any difference to your faith?" Sue asked, keeping her voice as quiet as she could, rocking the lil' girl on her lap. It wasn't the question she wanted to ask, but it was the safer of the two.

Safer, and ineffective. Willow responded, sighing, "Significant plenty. Spread pressure."

The mention of pressure caught Sue's attention. "Pressure of what?"

"Forefather faith. Need respect, need worship," they answered, straining their voice as if responding to a dimwitted, self-explanatory question. Sue didn't appreciate that tone, about to get back at them with her riskier question—before stopping.

No, I don't want to do this to Joy.

Instead, Sue took one deep breath, then another, then rolled her shoulders for good measure, and only then put the words to the question on her mind. "You mentioned Solstice's influence. What about all the other influence from people of this land? Are you insisting that your forefathers' faith somehow remained unchanged this entire time, free from the influence of Solstice's clan, and it was only her arrival that introduced heresy?"

This was an angle that could backfire spectacularly, one Sue expected to set off people like Root if they ever heard it. She trusted Willow to be smarter than this, to recognize the faith they inherited as but one variant of many that all influenced each other, as opposed to a fixed dogma thrust upon them from Duck herself.

And she was right.

Willow clenched their paws, flinching so hard the curls under their ears jiggled as they turned to stare at the dirt path beside the table. The setting sun highlighted their age, bringing the grayish, spottier patches of fur and wrinkles on their snout into focus. They contrasted greatly with their intense blue eyes, shaking faintly as more intense emotion began to build up within them. Annoyance, offense, everything Sue had hoped she'd be able to avoid, making her lean away from the table just in case.

Thankfully, the medic kept themselves under control, letting their emotions subside before arguing, "We good, peace people, Sue. Peace, faithful, help other around, help everyone. Did good acts, good help, make good world. Not only who dislike night kin."

Channeling her willpower, Sue stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Willow's misdirection. They weren't wrong—their people did a lot of good to the best of her knowledge, and that alone was worth admiration and praise. If not for their willingness to help whoever needed aid, Moonview wouldn't exist. They obviously weren't evil.

And yet, they weren't without flaw, either—even if that flaw happened to be shared with others. "I'm not sure how one makes the other right, Willow. Yes, your people did many great things, but that doesn't make them beyond reproach. Just because they helped strangers, or just because other peoples weren't friendly towards the night kin, that doesn't make their attitudes right."

Sue kept her mouth open, wanting to continue. She wanted to go on about how their insistence that others' hatred of the night kin justifying their hatred was backwards logic, how it assumed that they had somehow earned or deserved that hatred, how it could be extrapolated into painting the world as a cruel, 'just' place where everyone who was suffering had somehow had it coming. But she didn't.

There was a much better point to be made, one she only noticed just now. Two, even. "And you already know that their attitudes aren't right, don't you, Willow? You wouldn't be trying to excuse them if you knew they were in the right. Besides, that the others are doing it too is no excuse—isn't it a point of pride to you, to your entire people, to be better than others, more righteous in your acts?"

She leaned back once she was done with her polemic, more confident about her approach to this discussion. There, something she knew they wouldn't be able to argue much with, not if they wanted to approach the topic in good faith—they were getting angrier.

Nope, maybe not the best of ideas after all.

Her eyes went wide as she stared at the pink and cream medic, their expression so much fiercer than she'd ever remembered it being. Sure, she'd seen—and caused—their annoyance in the past, but this went beyond that, beyond grumbling and huffing. Their paw shook as their blue eyes glared into her, brows furrowing hard enough to make her genuinely afraid she was about to be hurt.

Fortunately, that didn't end up happening, with their emotions finding another outlet. "We still better!" they insisted, squeaks and whines combining into something much more intimidating than Sue would've ever thought possible. They weren't shouting, but only by the thinnest of margins.

For all their intensity, though, their point made little sense. "Then why not lean into being better?" Sue pressed back, pushing through her hesitation and leaning forward in her seat. "I'm sorry, Willow, I refuse to believe you of all people aren't aware of the hurt your forefathers inflicted on the night kin with their decisions. You were here when the plague struck, you were here when they were exiled, why continue to insist on excluding them just because your ancestors did!?"

This time, it was her that had ended up with a raised voice by the end, the final syllable leaving the young girl on her lap shuddering. Willow wasn't doing much better with remaining calm, but at least Sue's pointed response took them aback enough to choke some of their flame. Sadly, that helped little when it came to their reasoning. "Forefathers did for reason," they insisted, clarifying nothing.

It felt circuitous, but Sue was too invested in this silly chat to not dig as deep as she could in search of something that would make it all make sense. She responded, "What reason, then? What about the night kin is so uniquely terrible they deserve shunning and exile?"

For once, something the medic felt much more comfortable about answering, staring back at the Forest Guardian with confidence. "They enemies of Pale Lady. Not know already, Sue?"

Oh I know a fair bit about the relations between the extremely divorced lunar duo, and it sure ain't what you're insisting it is, Willow

As much as Sue wished she could respond with that thought verbatim, she had to resort to a different point. No amount of confidence could offset her having arrived in this world only a week ago, making all her theological assertions moot. Still, she had other options. "Says who? Solanum?"

Bringing Solstice's clan into the conversation again didn't do either of them any good, leaving both Sue and Willow repulsed at the mere mention, if for different reasons. With how unsightly and vulgar as Sue's comparison was, though, the medic couldn't resist arguing back right away, raising their voice and leaning over the table. "They are by nature! That how world is! Just reality, just truth! Not me who decide, Sue! Just reality, just truth, dozens dozens generations. My role is listen truth, not doubt, not defy—"

*whi-whimper*

The shrill sound coming from the toothy girl on Sue's lap sent a chill through both their hearts, leaving the medic shaking as they backed down. Sue was trying her hardest to comfort Joy, holding her even closer and before humming a half-remembered lullaby, hoping it'd bring her the comfort she deserved. It was slowly working, but the little one was still confused about it all. Joy stuttered out a couple words as she looked up to her guardian, intended for Sue's ears but only understood by Willow.

They visibly winced at the sound, closing their eyes and taking deep breaths as they reached up to rub their temples. The Forest Guardian had no idea how to answer, kicking herself over not having established a link with Joy the moment she'd ran over. What if she'd just asked her something important and would grow confused—or worse yet, terrified—about her guardian not responding?

She didn't know, couldn't—

"Apology for loud voice, Joy," Willow cut in, their voice deflated. To Sue's immediate relief, the girl on her lap not only understood the apology, but was comforted by it, nodding weakly and leaning further on her guardian. It was okay. Things were okay.

This entire cursed, tensed discussion wasn't over yet, but everything would be alright.

Sue was torn. She wanted, needed to continue, but didn't want to subject Joy to more of this if she could avoid it. The girl wouldn't want to be separated from her right now even if she were to physically carry her back to Sundance and others, but who knew when she'd get the next opportunity to truly discuss this topic with the medic one-on-one and without anyone eavesdropping?

Thankfully, despite their stubborn dismissal of her points, Willow seemed just as keen on not exposing the little one to any further shouting. And if there was something Sue could still respect them for, it was that. Everything else, though... it was growing harder and harder to. Yes, they were a selfless healer, but was pride really their motivation behind doing so? Sue didn't believe that, couldn't believe that. She hadn't felt a smidge of superiority in their attitude in the past, nothing but good intentions.

And yet, here they were, adamantly excusing their wrongdoings and blaming them all on their ancestors and the steps they had laid out for them. Sue wasn't satisfied with that, nowhere near. And, once she felt Joy's heart grow calm and her own ease out as much as if it would be today, she expressed her dissatisfaction.

"Why, though?" she asked. "Why is it not your spot to challenge or change your people's faith? Are you not one of them? Do you not have the right to contribute and shape them?"

Disdain flashed through their short snout, muffling into dismissal by the time it had reached their vocal cords. "You not understand. Would not understand. You, Sue, one person. Me, descendant. Above, dozens dozens generations. Me they watch, judge. Me, only left, only who can carry tradition and faith. You, not have that burden."

It was Sue's turn to grow annoyed, sharply exhaling through her barely visible nostrils at the implication she didn't have any expectations placed upon her. It was maybe true in this world, now that the intended pathway of finishing college, settling down and starting a family was no longer possible, but that didn't mean she was unfamiliar with how they felt.

On the other hand... Willow had a point, too.

She wasn't a stranger to familial expectations, but they paled compared to the sheer pressure the medic must've been feeling. All she had on her shoulders were the best wishes of her parents, a single generation, and their kind words as opposed to the many, many more Willow was struggling with. The only one left to follow traditions, to follow their faith, barely withstanding the crushing expectations and the peer pressure of thousands upon thousands of ghosts.

At the end of the day, however, they were just that—ghosts. Willow was still their own person with their own volition, free to act as they pleased. And, judging by their scrambled excuses, it wasn't as if they were utterly blind to the harm they were causing. Sue responded, "Are these traditions, that faith, even something you want to carry?"

Willow jerked back, mood snapping from discomfort to a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Y-yes! Beside, what matter if not? Have to. What forefathers think if last child disrespect tradition, how angry they be?"

'What would they think', forever the unrelenting specter.

As much as Sue wanted to snap back, saying that it didn't matter, she knew better than to go there. This entire topic wasn't her strong suit. She wasn't tied to any traditions, any cultural identity; about as plain a slice of white British toast bread as they got. She didn't know if what she was saying was even right.

But Willow didn't know either. They were sure trying to convince themselves they knew, to relegate having to think about it all to long-established traditions and beliefs that would answer it for them. Unfortunately for them, they were too smart for that to work perfectly; too aware of the consequences of theirs and others' actions to let the thick blanket of deferring blame smother all their doubts away and leave only devotion behind.

And it was these doubts that Sue knew she had to use to her advantage. "I can ask you the same thing, Willow," she began. "How angry will your ancestors be to see the last one of their people clinging to oppression even after almost everyone else has moved on? How disappointed will they be to see you put hatred over the values they valued the most—"

Sue paused mid-sentence, freezing at the realization of just how furious Willow had gotten.

She looked at them in fear, watching as their wide eyes drilled into her with wrath far beyond what she thought the medic was even capable of. A voice in the back of her head was yelling at her to get up and run, shouting about how she wasn't safe anymore and she needed to get away now—

Only for Willow to storm off with a huff instead, infuriated and—to all the relief Sue could find within her anymore—conflicted. She sat still, panting as she watched the medic leave the clearing and disappear between the Moonview's many buildings, taking some of the evening sunlight with them. She'd shone a light on their doubt and made it grow stronger, and it was the only reason Sue wasn't considering this entire discussion an absolute waste of their combined time.

It sure could've gone a lot better, though. Much, much better.

Sue knew she shouldn't have been focusing on what could've been, but that fact only slightly muffled the persistent thought's effectiveness. She still felt down, both at her missteps and at having antagonized someone she once looked up to as a friend. The rational part of her argued the latter wasn't her fault, that Willow had brought it upon themselves the moment they let their mask slip off about how they felt about the night kin.

Her emotional part wasn't convinced. Too late to do anything about it, though. It was time to get up, rejoin the others, and probably start heading in the general direction of a bed. Sue lifted Joy into her arms proper, the girl shivering as her maw had to let go of her friend's fingers. She slid out of her seat, straightened her legs, began turning towards the rest of the group—

And saw someone in the treeline.

Someone who looked like Nightbane.

Sue jumped at the sight, deaf to Joy's alarmed squeaks as she tried looking at that spot again—and found nobody. She looked around in panic, whole body shaking as her gaze fixated on every blob that so much as resembled a person between the surrounding trees. None of them amounted to anything on a closer look, though, and the more she thought about it, the more she doubted whether the 'someone' she'd spotted was even real to begin with.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was Nightbane. Or worse, someone else from Solstice's clan. All the reassurances that it was just Solstice's immediate family suddenly meant nothing, the fleeting observation eroding much of Sue's remaining confidence in them not being a serious threat.

*sq-squeak?*

Right, sorry, Joy.


"I'm—I'm here, I'm here," Sue whispered, holding the little metal girl tighter as she grabbed her bearings. No matter how unnerved she felt, Joy no doubt had it much worse, and it was her comfort her guardian ought to have been prioritizing. "I'm sorry sweetie, I got spooked by something. Here, let's go back to the others now."

Hearing her big friend's voice helped Joy remain calm, which, in turn, reassured Sue. Together, they turned towards the table their friends were sitting at, only to spot a welcome addition—especially now that she was feeling better again. Still not at her best, but miles ahead from the last time Sue had seen her, and that was all she could reasonably expect of her. 'Not quite perfect' sure beat 'so foul her and Sue only wound each other up with their mere presence'.

And, even all that aside, Sue was happy to see her. "Good evening, Solstice!" she spoke up with as much cheer as she could muster, catching the table's upbeat attention. "I'm—I'm glad to see you're feeling better now."

Comet answered her greeting first, squeaking happily from his spot on his mom's lap and earning himself a gentle hair ruffle. The Mayor's smile wasn't as wide as it used to be, but it felt noticeably less forced, a trade-off Sue eagerly accepted any day of the week. "^I'm glad to see you too, Sue—and you as well, Joy~.^" The addition sent giggles through the table as the metal girl in Sue's arms squirmed happily, letting her big friend lower her down onto the ground again.

After a moment of hesitation and looking up at Sue for reassurance, Joy took a step towards the older Forest Guardian. And then, another, and third, until she had made it and gently embraced her legs, trying to feel at ease. It took Sundance all the restraint she had to not swoon at the sight, instead giving Sue an upbeat smile as her friend leaned in and lifted Joy onto her own lap with her physical arms, seating her beside her son. The movement made the girl flinch, but she eased out once she was sat down and comfy—especially with Sue right behind her with a beaming, almost tearful smile.

"Oh, my goodness..." Sue whispered, catching Joy's attention and further calming her with her happiness. "T-twinkle?" She looked around the table, and the ghostly bundle of a child immediately perked up. Within moments, they were scooting up Sue's body, holding her tight and relaxing at her touch. "Do you want to sit with Joy for a moment on Solstice's lap?"

The lil' ghost gave the question as much consideration as they could before declining in their own way—namely, by extending another pair of inky tentacles to hold Sue's torso with. The Mayor didn't mind, starting a chorus of 'awww's' at the sight, one without judgment or mockery, only added to further with Comet's bubbly babbling as he held his friend. Instead, Solstice gently stroked Joy's head and—inspired by Sue—her maw, too. The girl grew stiff at the latter, but soon relaxed, unable to resist how pleasant it felt, even when coming from someone she wasn't as close to as Sue.

"^Did you and Sundance end up talking about anything?^" the Mayor asked, taking Sue out of idly smiling at the sweet scene.

The younger Forest Guardian glanced over at Sundance, wordlessly asking if it was alright to talk about it—and received an immediate nod of confirmation. These were her struggles, after all. "Y-yeah, we did. It was... mostly about my family," Sue answered, smudging the truth somewhat. She didn't want to be dishonest with her mentor, but was afraid to bring up Aurora unprompted lest it would send them both into a very unpleasant territory again. "About my family, and how they kinda still haunt me."

"And haunting like that is ever miserable indeed," Sundance pointedly added, ruffling the fur on Spark's head.

Solstice didn't need to be a psychic to get the allusion, closing her eyes as she nodded. She couldn't deny that the topic still hurt; she didn't know if it would ever stop truly hurting. But it wasn't a pain she had to run away from, a pain she had to keep to herself. It would do neither her nor those she cared about any good, and she finally felt ready to confront that plain truth.

She took a deep breath, dispelled her son's worries with a gentle hair ruffle—and talked. "^Oh yes, it is miserable. I've... I've been thinking about Aurora,^" she admitted, bracing for the pain. It arrived soon after as if beckoned, but weak and muffled, defanged by having been summoned with words and not with ever-winding thoughts. "^I wanted to check up on her at the cemetery, maybe talk to her, but—but I couldn't push myself to. I promise I tried; I just didn't have the strength to take those final few steps. It feels like I should've pushed through regardless.^"

Sundance acknowledged her friend's words, giving her a small but proud smile. "You can try tomorrow, Solstice. It will hurt, but I am glad you're confronting those feelings. I believe in you, whether you succeed tomorrow or need more time still."

"A-and I believe in you too!" Sue added, upbeat and... proud. It was such a weird sensation to acknowledge for Solstice, unexpected and yet more comforting than she had the words for. The Mayor might have doubted whether tomorrow's attempt at talking to her daughter would end any differently than today's, but now she felt willing to give it an honest attempt.

And her pupil wasn't done yet, either. "And now that you've mentioned Aurora... *sigh*, we talked about her too," Sue admitted. Every single bone in her body screamed for her to shut up, to not make things even worse now that she'd admitted to something so dumb and embarrassing. The voices were winning, leaving Sue shuddering as she looked awkwardly at the grassy dirt,

Only for Solstice's words to dispel them all.

"^I understand. I can't—can't imagine all this is any easier for you, Sue.^" Solstice was struggling almost as much, internally debating whether to acknowledge what they were both feeling, the obvious and yet unspoken detail without which Sue's focus on Aurora didn't even make sense. It would've probably helped them both, but she didn't have the strength for it. Not today. But that didn't mean she couldn't express what she thought. "^I'm—I'm proud of you for mentioning this.^"

It was a painful sort of pride, one filled with regret at all this even being so difficult in the first place, but no less genuine because of it. And Sue could definitely tell. "Th-thank you, Solstice," she replied, fluttering her eyelids to abate any more tears for today.

Off to the side, Sundance found a moment to roll her eyes without being noticed. Not as much progress as she might have hoped, but more than she expected. The two Forest Guardians working through their respective ghosts wasn't the only thing on the vixen's mind, though. "I'm not gonna pry what you talked about with Willow, Sue, but... are you sure you're alright? You were terrified afterwards for a moment."

Oh boy, and here I hoped they didn't notice. Though...

Sue shivered at the recollection, nodding firmly. "Well, yes, I got quite spooked there. I was just tired and saw something weird in the woods. Nothing serious, but I do have a question unrelated to that."

Precisely nobody bought the pretense that the question about to be asked was unrelated to what had scared Sue, but none of the older women saw it fit to point holes in it. "^Go ahead, Sue,^" Solstice reassured.

"Is... is someone looking out for what Solanum and the rest of your family are up to?"

As composed as Sue had tried to remain when asking her question, some of her earlier fear still slipped through. Again, neither Sundance nor Solstice could blame her, with the latter answering soon after, "^I don't think so, no. I doubt they'll linger around for much longer after today.^"

Not the answer Sue wanted, but one she knew what to say in response to. "Well, I think it might be a good idea to have someone looking after them." She had many reasons to want that, but realized that one of them would be what the other two women would immediately leap to. "A-and yes, I know I'm still affected by what they had done today and Nightbane's entire f-fucking thing, and I'd be lying if I said this isn't contributing to me asking for it, but it's not my only reason. I'm seriously worried they have an ulterior motive for coming here, more so than just wanting to harass you, Solstice."

Hardly the most convincing argumentation in the world. Thankfully, it was still enough, if almost entirely thanks to that first, emotional reason. "^Alright,^" Solstice responded, hiding her incredulity. "^I'll ask for someone to keep track of them tomorrow. Astra would've been good at that, though she's unfortunately absent.^"

...

Of course.

Sue's eyes went wide. So that was why Root was so eager to send Astra on another scouting mission. He wanted her gone for a reason, and that reason must've been leaving Moonview without someone capable of spying or fighting Solanum and her band! She had no idea just how capable a fighter the dragon was, but her raw strength alone would've made her formidable, even against the invaders' psychics. This was it, this must've been it, the realization winding Sue up even more—

Something cold, slimy, and wriggly was touching her leg.

She had only barely kept herself from jumping at the sensation, rational mind cutting in with a candidate for who this sensation might've belonged to. And sure enough, said hunch was correct, turning Sue's panicked leap in the making into a weak, unnerved chuckle at seeing Basil's little one trying to slither along her leg. And, given that she'd never seen him be intentionally left on his own, meant that someone was probably looking for him.

And she was down to help return him to said someone, and air her mind at the same time.

"H-hey there, little guy," she faux-confidently greeted, carefully picking the brown caterpillar up. He was about as uncomfortable to hold as Sue would've guessed, especially with the constant squirming, but she tried not to pay that much mind—especially with him finally spotting her back once he was brought to within a few feet of her face, held at an arm's length.

As if a switch had flipped, confusion and agitation filling his not-yet-formed mind turned into calm happiness at recognizing someone. It didn't result in much change to his behavior, and especially didn't help with his squirming, but it was still appreciated. "Let's go find your dads, eh?"

Sundance's and Solstice's giggles were a pleasant backdrop for Sue getting up and turning away, but Joy was still unsure what was going on. She was torn between being interested in the brown caterpillar, and being skittish about her guardian walking away. Luckily, there just so was a course of action that satisfied both concerns—leaping off the Mayor's lap and breaking into a dash to catch up with Sue.

If the once-human had trusted herself to be able to carry the lil' bug in one hand, she would've kneeled to pet Joy once she'd caught up with them. But, in the absence of that, words had to suffice. "I'm here Joy, I'm here! Everything is alright, we're just helping our little friend find their dads—oh, and I think we found... uh, Basil's mate."

Her memory of names might've failed her, but she was sure the giant butterfly's appearance would remain seared into her mind forever, even past the shock of their... mutual introduction. Though, to be fair, that was true of almost everyone else in Moonview as well. As striking as their massive red compound eyes were, though, their vision didn't seem to be all that good. It took until Sue was within fifteen feet of them or so for them to finally make her—and the lil' bug in her arms—out.

Their emotions were much more dire than Sue had expected, but they didn't last. A chirping buzz of relief and joy filled the air as they dashed over, subsuming the grief and fear that had shone through earlier once they took the brown caterpillar into their tiny blue paws. Sue wasn't sure whether actual butterflies even had arms, but that was not a limitation this world cared about either way, so what did it matter? Either way, their son was as happy as his infant mind could express; the butterfly was ecstatically nuzzling their little one all over the underside of their head segment, and things were—

BIRCH! His name is Birch. Finally remembered.

—and things were good. Once Birch was done making their baby bug flail and squirm, he shifted his attention to Sue and Joy instead; the latter waving at him happily. Just like Sue earlier, he didn't have the spare arms to wave back at her, forcing him to express his greetings differently. He flapped his powerful wings a few times, the resulting gust of wind somehow ruffling Sue's hair even further and almost knocking Joy off her feet—to the girl's amusement, surprisingly. She half-squealed, half-growled something in return, and just like earlier, Birch responded with another gust of wind, letting out laughter-like buzzing all the while.

And if only the wind didn't contain some weird glitter that made Sue sneeze and feel itchy, she wouldn't have had any issues with it. Thankfully, Birch realized what was going on and spared the Forest Guardian a third Gust, flying over with mild concern. Joy was more overtly disappointed, but didn't let it get to her—especially when she still could play waving at each other back and forth with the caterpillar.

Sue wasn't even sure if her sneezing was Birch's fault, but either way, it was annoying more than anything. "Oh, I'm—I'm—*achoo!*—I'm good. *Sniff*, good Duck I wouldn't think my allergies would flare up hereeee—*achoo!*"

Not hearing any alarm in the Forest Guardian's tone, the big butterfly calmed down instead, flying back to keep his distance as the buzzes continued. Giddy but controlled and apologetic towards her, excitable towards Joy, and relieved towards the little one. It probably involved thanks of some sort, and Sue acted proactively by slightly bowing towards him in return.

His amusement hinted at her having either gotten his intent or the timing way, way off, but Sue was feeling too good—and too sniffly—to let that get to her.

Once Birch had flown off, his son buzzing in his paws all the while, Sue turned around towards their table—and saw it was already empty. She only caught a brief glimpse of Sundance and Spark before they disappeared behind buildings on their way back to their dwelling, leaving just Solstice and Comet walking towards them. For once, the latter was allowed to walk on the dirt and grass beside his mom. Or, at least, to try to walk beside her, constantly stumbling and stopping, tripping and falling, and failing all that—awkwardly waddling.

Still, progress! "Good job, Comet!" Sue smiled.

*squeeeak!*

His antics helped keep the atmosphere light once he and his mom had caught up to Sue, the two adults exchanging tired, but unfaltering smiles. The air between them wasn't perfectly clear yet, but they could look each other in the eye again. And just having that was more reassurance than either of them would've expected—or been comfortable admitting to themselves.

"^Is Birch doing alright?^" Solstice asked once Comet was just a few steps away from Sue.

"Oh? Why wouldn't he be?"

The Mayor hesitated for a while before admitting with a sigh, "^He has had a recent tragedy in the family, to my knowledge. I'm glad he's keeping positive through it, though I hope he'll talk with someone if it gets too much.^"

Sue winced, feeling bad about not having said something to reassure him in that case. Then again, aside from that instant of awful murk, he genuinely felt good at being reunited with his son, and not even in the pretend way she and Solstice were all too keen on. Maybe she would've only made it worse by bringing it up.

Yeah, I've had enough fretting about stuff like this for a while.

She had much more important things to be thinking about, after all. Things, and people. Shaking the previous topic aside, Sue looked straight at Solstice, with the older Forest Guardian noticing the attention and looking back at her after picking her son up into her arms. Once, she would've been terrified at those demonic eyes staring into her. Once, she would've been aghast at the idea of a 'real' Forest Guardian facing her like this. Once, she would've felt too guilty about everything they were both feeling to maintain eye contact for more than a shameful instant.

Once, but no longer.

Taking a bold step forward, Sue raised her hand and patted Solstice's shoulder. The older Forest Guardian wasn't familiar with the gesture, but she didn't flinch—Sue's intent was obvious. And so, so appreciated. Instead, the Mayor's eyes shone as her psychics embraced her pupil and oriented her into a side hug, gentle and warm to the touch. Not something the younger Forest Guardian would've done, but all the more reassuring because of it, the combined warmth undoing more of their respective insecurities than any dry chat.

Especially when accompanied by words. "I'm glad you—you're trying to face it all, Solstice," Sue whispered.

Her mentor beamed. "^Thank you, Sue. And I'm... I'm proud of you. I haven't said that enough, nowhere near enough. I'm proud of your intervention yesterday, of your determination to make things right in Newmoon, of how you've been looking after Joy and now Twinkle, too. I know none of that has been easy for you, but you've been trying your best each and every time. You're doing great things, and more importantly, you're a great person yourself. And I'm hardly the only one that thinks so~.^"

Sue had no idea when all these tears had snuck up on her, but she didn't have it in her to mind that much. She let them flow freely, basking in the warmth of Solstice's words. Twinkle and Joy were quick to notice what looked like distress, but the Mayor was on top of things, covertly whispering reassurances about their... their guardian being happy. Because she was happy.

She hadn't remembered feeling like this, this comfort, ever since that fateful memory Solstice had watched with her in the cemetery.

The sun was setting around them, but they didn't rush. Sue's eyes were puffy from tears, her cheeks glistened with sticky wetness, but neither of these facts mattered, neither of them could matter. Things were okay. She was okay, not just in the moment, but... in general. Inherently. It's been so, so long since she'd last allowed herself to think that.

"Th-th-thank you, *sniff*, Solstice..." Sue mumbled, voice unsteady and cracking.

"^You're very welcome, Sue. Feeling ready to walk back home?^"

Sue was taken aback at the nudge, but couldn't blame her mentor for it—the very last sliver of the sun had just crept its way behind the horizon, best not to waste any more time. "Y-yeah, I-I think I'm ready! How about you, Joy?"

The metal girl perked up, looking away from the beautiful shades of shifting sky above her and towards her guardian. "G-g-go, yes! Y-you happy?"

More than I know how to describe, Joy.

"Yes, yes I am, sweetie. And I hope you are, too!"

"Yeeees!" Joy squealed. "P-p-pretty, up!"

"^The sunsets are beautiful this time of the year, indeed. Imagine if you could capture all those shifting colors in a painting, or weave them into clothing.^"

Sue held in a chuckle—all the 'smart' junk back on Earth could probably do something like that, but even with all its wires and power usage, it still wouldn't have come close to the real thing. "That would be pretty, yeah. Wanna hop into my arms so that you can watch the sky?"

It wasn't even a question.


The route back to Solstice's tent wasn't a particularly difficult or busy one, especially with much of it passing through the outskirts of Moonview. Duck's altar was in the same state Sue had last seen it in. The flowers in front of the shattered wall were wilting, evidently untouched since before it went down, with nobody exactly certain on how to handle it now. She could only chuckle at the realization—and this time, Solstice was feeling confident enough to laugh along with her.

For all his excited wriggling, Comet didn't last long once their path grew dark, easing out more and more in his mom's arms. Joy, however, was still enthralled with the skies above, watching closely as the dark reds faded to purples, then blues, then finally darkness—and, at the other end of the heavens, to pinpricks of stars. The Moon was there too, its thick crescent silently watching over them.

And beside them, between the buildings, a trembling, dimly glowing bundle.

The younger Forest Guardian took a moment to come to after Solstice had pointed out the dim fear in a nearby alleyway, but once she knew where to probe with her tugging sense, she could sense it too. She could even tell who it belonged to based on that feeling alone! Or at least so she hoped—it was hard to deny the possibility of her sight influencing that 'hunch'.

"^Crackle? Are you okay?^" Solstice asked, kneeling beside him.

Sue had no idea how a fire could whimper, but the hidden glowing boy had managed to make that sound, regardless. Worryingly, he didn't react to the Mayor's words, leaving her unsure as her pupil tried her luck. "Crackle, did something happen to you?" It was the most obvious reason for Sue, and it wasn't like Moonview was lacking in suspects for having done such a thing, letting a few drops of anger into her thought process.

Not this time, though. "S-S-Sue! Nothing happened to me. I'm—I'm just afraid of the night," the lamp child answered, telepathy turning many tiny variations of hissing and crackling into tones and words.

Too bad it didn't help with making his answer make sense. "W-why?"

"Because Mr. Root told me the night kin are gonna be coming now! A-and that they're evil and they're gonna hurt us!"

Had Solstice been any more tired, the impulse to facepalm would've won. Sue, instead, was just left disappointed—but still somewhat hopeful. They were clearly listening to her, so maybe she could try to argue? "Oh no, that's not true, Crackle! Some of them are a little scary, sure, but they won't hurt you more than anyone else would."

Immediately, conflict filled his mind, a battle of 'he said' versus 'she said' that threatened to subsume him whole. "But how do you know that, Sue?"

"Because... I visited them a couple days ago, and they didn't hurt me!"

They didn't, only that fucking bird. And, well, Alastor had tried, but Crackle doesn't need to know that—

"Ooooohhh. I see," the bedsheet ghost sighed, picking himself up from the ground. Sue wasn't sure why he was even taking her assertions at face value instead of bringing up Sundance as a counterargument, but she wasn't about to argue with that. The mean side of her brain suggested it was because Crackle sure didn't feel like he got to talk much with anyone, but she was sure there had to have been a different explanation. "Won't they want to hurt me because I make light?"

Sue blinked. "What—oh no no no," she answered, trying to hold in giggles. "They don't sit in darkness all day."

Crackle gasped. "Oh! I didn't know that. Thank you, Sue!" Reassured, they hovered closer to her, carefully wrapping their black... limbs around her waist. Even beyond their uncomfortable warmth, they felt less like flesh and more like stiff metal, making their affection about as pleasant as hugging a kettle. Didn't matter, though—she was glad to have helped them out, especially since she hadn't gotten burned yet.

"Y-you're welcome, Crackle! U-um, gonna be lighting up the—"

"*GASP!* Yes, I almost forgot, thank you Sue!" Crackle jolted into the air. "Goodbye Sue, goodbye Mrs. S-S-Solstice!" Before either of them could respond, Crackle was already gone, his trek through Moonview heralded by the streets lighting up with a dim, purplish light.

As silly as this entire exchange had been, one detail in it had left Sue worried, even after they were on the move again. "Does he interact with Root often?"

Solstice sighed. "^Unfortunately, yes. Root's the one looking after him to the best of my knowledge. Mentors him, too—for better or worse, he's the best suited person in Moonview to do so.^"

Sue wasn't convinced how well that overgrown ferret was suited to mentoring anyone about anything that wasn't putting on a pointy white hat and matching robes, but she had little room to argue. And so, she didn't, letting that point fade into the night as they reached the Mayor's tent.

Joy grumbled about being taken indoors just as the stars were getting really visible, but her annoyance didn't last long in the light of her own drowsiness. Twinkle needed little prodding to fall asleep either, and all Comet required was being lowered into his cot. Before long, it was just the two Forest Guardians, exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally from a long, long day.

And yet, they felt good—better than they have in days.

In some ways, better than they have in years.

It wouldn't be long before Sue joined the two little ones beside her in unconsciousness. Still, she was hesitant to let go of awareness yet, even as warm as Solstice's affection had made her feel. Her fears from earlier in the day had been dulled, soothed, overshadowed, and weren't threatening to tear her psyche apart—but she was still curious about the catalyst behind them. "S-Solstice?" she whispered.

There were no words in response, merely a faint psychic touch on her head, accompanied by the other Forest Guardian's dimly glowing eyes opening to look at her.

"If it's not too much... what was Aurora like?"

Predictably, Solstice's eyes closed at the question, her emotions threatening to sour from their previous mute contentment. It hurt to think about, and Sue feared she'd inadvertently triggered another breakdown—but her mentor held through it. The Mayor wasn't sure if she'd be able to maintain this kind of focus when the time came to talk to Aurora, but she could cling onto it now. "^Always wanted to help everyone she ran into, no matter how much or how little she was really capable of it, hah.^"

A sniffle filled the silence, then another.

"^Loved to practice her psychics, even if they were quite hard for her. And...^" Solstice trailed off, breathing heavily. "^Could we talk about her more tomorrow? I'm not sure how much I can do it tonight, I'm afraid.^"

"Oh no no, it's okay," Sue whispered. "I really hope we can do that."

Her mentor opened her eyes again, looking at her with a soft, motherly expression. "^I'll try my best. It is long overdue.^"

And that's all Sue could ever ask for. "Thank you, Solstice. Sleep well."

"^May She keep your rest peaceful.^"


♪C A E♭ F♭ A E♭ F♭ G A E♭ B♭—♪

Sue kept her eyes closed as her hands played music on their own, putting her mom's guitar to good use. Even once she'd come to, she took her time opening her eyes to whatever awaited her this time—it's been a while since she last had the chance to just sit down and listen to something pleasant.

Alas, this un-reality would only indulge her for so long, with the individual chords growing disjointed before stopping altogether as her dreamed-up guitar skills had finally descended all the way down to her actual guitar skills. Killjoy.

Even with the music gone, she was still hesitant to look at what awaited her. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with Justice—or worse. How about a calm dream where it was just her, the kid—the little ones, Lilly, and a nice beach? Or a cafe? Or hell, even a decent chip shop. None of that, yet again, that much she was sure of without even having to open her eyes.

Into this replica of a replica of the place where I saw my mom alive for the last time.

Many of the surrounding details were growing almost distressingly familiar. To her right, a shadowy figure, the twisting darkness trying its hardest to coalesce into a vertically elongated shape but failing. To her left, just like in her last dream, Joy and Twinkle, still dancing and squirming in their seat even with the music gone. Just like the last time, they turned to her smiling and excited, waved at her—and were gone in the blink of an eye.

Before her, someone else. Someone like her.

Freezing dread filled Sue's mind as she took in the details of the stranger, so similar to what she was familiar with and yet so different. White body, green legs, short skirt of loose skin. Green hair falling onto their shoulders, twin red horns sticking out of their head, though not in the same way as with Comet. Taller than him, much shorter than her. Facing away from her.

As much as Sue tried to focus on them, she couldn't figure out who it was. She felt she should know, but she didn't, and each moment where the facts refused to click together only added more fuel to the quickly burning panic within her. Who was this; why were they so familiar!?

Before Sue knew, a Dark Void began to encircle her, closing in on her while her entire attention was focused on this shadow, this ghost before her. At last, they moved, twitching as if shocked as they lifted their head and began turning it towards her—

"BEGONE."

And then, a blink later, the shadow before her was gone, joining the usual two beside her. Sue panted as she caught her breath, panicking eyes looking around the scene in trying to figure out what was going on. The darkness was gone; the fire was back; everything was as usual—and Night Father was there, too.

Sue could faintly recall seeing Him a couple nights ago in a terrible, injured state, and He sure hadn't gotten any better since. His left arm hung limply from its shoulder, only attached to it with a handful of thin, dark threads. That aside, He was as usual—black body, white head, crimson collar and all, calmly watching the fire as He sat a respectful distance away from her.

The last time they had interacted didn't go the most... swimmingly. On one hand, that was decidedly His fault for siccing multiple cruel deities upon her in His dumb investigation, but on the other, He was just about the only celestial being that was genuinely trying to help her out, even if for His own reasons.

I just hope he isn't too upset with me.

Left unsure what to say, Sue broke the quiet with a greeting. "Um, good—good evening, Night Father?" At last, a reaction, His pale blue eye turning to focus on her.

"Greetings."

"Hi, hi. Uh, sorry for your arm?"

"Inconsequential. Gratitude towards you."

It took Sue embarrassingly long to realize what He was referring to, a nervous chuckle leaving her afterwards. She expected people to thank her for that, sure, but not... deities. "Y-you're welcome. So, uh... any reason for the visit, or just to say thanks?"

"Knowledge of the guilty party."

Sue froze at the admission, not expecting Him to have gone from blindly fumbling to figuring out the culprit in just a few nights. "A-are you sure? Who is it? Is—is it Justice?"

"Certain. Identity..."

His voice trailed off, almost as if uncertain. Sue didn't like this, not after Justice's many non-answers about which divine bastard had the bright idea to spirit away her, of all people. "Wh-who is it!?"

"Cannot answer."

She had had enough. "WHY!? I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF EVERYONE PLAYING THESE STUPID GAMES—"

"Remember last dream. When saw guilty, dream shattered."

...

"Wh-what do you mean? You mean our last dream t-together? I remember th-that fucking Justice douche talking to me with its dumb piece of paper, and then... Th-then—"

Sue tried to focus on what happened afterwards. She flexed every neuron her brain would allow her to, recalling everything up to when some unknown voice made her look over her shoulder. Then… nothing.

The same nothing as when trying to recall what happened before she ended up in this world. "W-wait, so that thing isn't even letting me know who it is!?"

"Almost certain. Apology inadequate answer."

If she hadn't already been so tired of swearing revenge on assorted celestial beings, she would've promised the deity responsible enough punishment to make Margaret Thatcher's eternal resting place seem like a five star resort. "It's—it's fine. W-wait, so it's not Justice?"

"Correct. Justice not likely cause. However, very likely meddling."

"S-so It has something to do with all this! It came in, has been bothering me in my dreams, brought even more pain and confusion into this entire mess and it wasn't even who brought me here!?" Sue half shouted, half begged for an answer, only barely keeping herself together.

"Correct."

None of this was making any sense. "B-but for what?"

"Revenge against the guilty party."

The same reasoning Justice Itself gave her when first talking to her. She had no reason to suspect Night Father was in cahoots with It, which meant that not only Justice didn't lie, but that It was fighting against the 'guilty party'. Sue's mind was much more keen to use more flowery descriptions for that unknown deity, but couldn't decide on which—or whether she ought to keep herself to under fewer than five swear words in a row.

Even that confirmation provided little relief. "So, Justice is just using me like a tool to get back at the 'guilty party', somehow?"

"Basing on knowledge of Justice—almost certain."

Sue felt sick, and so did her imagination. With the stage now set beyond any doubt, it inspired new exciting and terrifying possibilities for what might've been going on. The most harrowing one of all was one where whoever had sent her here was the 'good' one, and Justice was the actual 'evil' she would have to somehow defeat in her stay here. Did it make any sense? Hell no.

Was her mind feeling capable of coming up with anything better? She sure fucking wished. "None of this makes any sense..." she whimpered, distraught.

"Guilty party, very annoying. Justice, very petty."

The mental image of being used as a cudgel for one asshole to beat another asshole with sure is thrilling.


Sue shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Wh-what now? I'm—I'm not sure what to do with this knowledge."

"Long term, continue as were. Only Justice knows its plan. Short term, want confirm."

"C-confirm what?"

"Knowledge of guilty party destroy dream."

She nodded idly, not particularly caring about His experiments. Guess in the best-case scenario, she'd have her hollow answer, a name to curse but which she had no hopes of ever hurting in the waking world. Otherwise—assuming she understood His explanation—she'd just wake up.

That sure sounded nice after having been through all this. "Sure, go ahead."

"Certain ready?"

"Not like I'm waiting for much in this cruel fucking joke of a place—"

Sue blinked.

The dawn creeped across the walls of Solstice's tent, and it was beautiful.



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

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Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
Interlude V: Velocity


Interlude V: Velocity



Something very important, huh?

The Windrider sighed as she opened her eyes once more, her faint psychic grasp lifting Latch's letter before her yet again. She'd read and re-read it dozens of times, unable to stop thinking about it even as the sun set around her. Despite her many attempts to rest, sleep refused to arrive, just like her friend's words refused to leave her mind.

The excitement therein wasn't anything unusual for him. However, it was almost always aimed towards his research—and even then, only when he had confirmed a discovery or another. To see it regard something concerning her, and sensitive enough for him to refrain from describing it... left her confused.

For what could even be out there that truly concerned her anymore?

The thought cut through her idle pondering. The shrieks of her friend's letter getting creased in her psychic grasp broke the silence. It hurt to think about, but was a valid consideration. For all the years they've known each other, Latch knew little about her. Definitely not for the lack of trying, either. She was a friend to him, a title she held with joy. At the same time, he also treated her like a puzzle, a living box of secrets and mysteries that had grasped his curiosity and refused to let go.

His nickname for her—a single sound his language approximated to 'V'—was the closest he'd ever gotten to glimpsing one of said secrets. She remembered being annoyed at it once; angry that he'd overheard her drunken reminiscing of the conversations she'd had with her kin over a millennium ago and had somehow figured out which of the whistled, growled sounds corresponded to her name.

Nobody would ever utter it ever again; the intricacies of its pronunciation lost to anyone not of her kin. Nobody was to even try, either. For their names were sacred, gifts from the emerald deity of dragons itself.

And yet, the Windrider was glad Latch kept trying.

It wasn't much; he would never even get close, but... it was a connection. One much closer than she'd had with anyone since the tragedy that had devoured the archipelago she'd just made her pilgrimage to. She doubted she would ever meet someone like him again, someone so willing to chip away at her defenses, so determined to find out more about her as a person and not a demigod or a being of legend. Too stubborn to ever bounce off her aloofness. Maybe one day she'd finally crack, finally open up, finally admit to the most terrifying truth of all—

That, between her solitude and fraying memories, there just wasn't much to her anymore.

Anyhow.

She let go of his letter and closed her eyes once more, focusing on the sounds of the ocean. She'd maintained her determination for an impressive two minutes before curiosity reared its head again. And, once more, it honed in on the subject of Latch's message.

The best—and most unrealistic—scenario would be the news of more of her kin having been found by some distant exploratory mission. The Windrider considered it only for a moment before shaking the thought aside. She had already lost many, many decades to futile searching. The last thing she needed was to fall into that hole again.

So, if not that, what else? Very few even remotely plausible ideas sprang to mind, and she had lived far too long to derive any pleasure in outlandish speculation anymore. Or, at least, so she thought. Perhaps she just hadn't had any topics interesting enough to daydream about in the recent past; her mind suffocated by idle reminiscing, regrets, and... less than pleasant sights surrounding her whenever she stayed with Latch.

Not from him, thankfully. As far as the dragon was concerned, her friend was the shining star of his people; the very best and most thoughtful that Golden Sky had to offer. Sadly, all that meant that whenever she looked out the windows from his workshop, whenever she descended from his tower, whenever she attempted to talk to anyone, she only saw misery.

Castes upon castes. A vast empire, fueled by forced labor in its many vassal territories. Ruled by bureaucrats who have long since lost the ability to perceive their people as anything but an amorphous mass to be assigned and optimized. Whether there were any noble ideas left in its heart, any of the light she had once seen in its people when it was but a single settlement...

The Windrider didn't know.

She didn't want to think about it, either.


With her train of thought sufficiently chilled by the unpleasant topic, sleep didn't take long to arrive. It was arduous, bereft of either physical comfort or emotional calm, but it was there. She was used to it, really. Rest was something mortal beings experienced, something she was by her very nature above.

Which wasn't true in the slightest. But sometimes, when she really tried hard to, she could just about delude herself into thinking so. It was easier that way, to pretend she had never lost anything and her current state was just how she'd always been—broken and restless.

There was bliss in that doomed finality, release from any effort to even try to move on. It wasn't ever strong enough to overcome her profound exhaustion, but that was a minor detail.

Like many times before, the Windrider woke up before dawn, already protectively curled up and shrouded by her reflective down. After pulling her body out of its defensive posture, she cleaned up the space around herself and finished the leftover provisions she couldn't force into her stomach the previous evening. If today would go as planned, she'd arrive in Golden Sky before noon, get comfortable in what was once a storage room in Latch's workshop—now her makeshift den—and preferably stay there until the next full moon.

While listening to Latch go on about whatever he'd discovered, of course.

The thought provided just the kick needed to wrap up her meal and clean up everything she could after herself. Latch's letter, shed down and feathers, any crumbs large enough for her keen eyesight to spot. All of them were grasped with her psychics, crushed, incinerated with a few wisps of dragonfire, and their ash discarded into the wind. Until, at last, no signs of her presence had remained.

Until, at last, she had joined her kin in being but a ghost.

With her ghostly host not seeming to be around, the Windrider closed the door to the tiny outpost and flew off. The earliest tinges of light were brushing against one end of the sky, wordlessly guiding her on where to go. Westward, towards the jewel of the empire. Away from the light. Outracing the sunrise for just that bit longer.

Each mile to the west brought her further and further into skies and seas she recognized, the increasingly familiar path getting rid of at least that source of stress. She was certain she could traverse the rest of the way there with her eyes closed, guided solely by her sense of place in the world. Or, if she were to be mean—and not undeservedly so—by her nose alone.

The juvenile thought forced the briefest of chuckles from her snout; the sound utterly dwarfed by the deafening rush of wind brought on by her flight. As much as she wanted to sprint the rest of the way there as fast as her aging body would allow, it was in hers and Latch's best interest to avoid being noticed as much as possible, and that demanded more conservative velocities.

Being exposed to the Golden Sky's ships and the forced labor force that powered them for any longer than necessary was regrettable, but it wasn't what annoyed her the most. It was the sun, rapidly gaining ground on her and lighting up the surrounding skies. Oh, how it burned, from Wiki purple to Pecha pink; from Sitrus yellow to Rawst blue. A divine spectacle, possibly the only one in the entire small world that hadn't ever ceased to fill her with awe.

She hated it. It made her reminisce.

How many nights she had spent talking with Love about the nature of mortal and divine existence, how many days she had spent resting in the ornate shrine the pink-shelled deity had called home. How many dawns she had watched by her side, exhausted, exhilarated, sometimes even exasperated. Too many to count—or forget. The cruel reality of that fact filled the dragon's white and red body with rage.

Tried as she might to contain her emotions, they only kept building up, handily winning the fight against her usual detachment. They screamed for release, one she finally granted them once the any and all ships were firmly past the horizon. Thunder after Thunder obscured her cries as it boiled the waters below, promising to relieve her fury but only adding to it while draining her strength.

Love wouldn't have wanted her to do this, to degrade herself to Valor at His worst. The thought stung, cutting her display of impotent wrath short. And with it stopped, the feelings it had been obscuring were finally allowed to resume.

And so, the Windrider wept, resuming her invisible flight.

The only thing that hurt more than losing them all was knowing what happened to them afterwards. She might not have been successful in finding her kin, but with time, she had tracked down the whereabouts of the husks that used to be her friends and mentors. Most of them, at least.

Passage had been swept away in the waves She once reigned over, carried by the tides until making landfall. The suffocating mists She had brought with Herself drove away all those who once lived near, and the briny tears endlessly spilling from Her shell had eroded the very land beneath Her. To the best of the Windrider's knowledge, She was still in the same spot over two centuries later, sinking into the earth and poisoning the groundwaters, surrounded by endlessly growing crystals of salt.

Hers was the most merciful end of the ones the dragon knew for certain.

Love's lust for life and cruelty alike had persisted, even with her mind gone. Drawn to the former, only to inflict the latter upon it. All who as much as saw Her were subjected to incapacitating mental torture, ending only with their deaths or an exceedingly lucky escape. Beyond just sentient beings, however, Her curse extended to all that was alive. Plants flayed and withered, the soil grew barren, fungi turned into ash; the air itself was brought to a standstill.

She was the most dangerous and the hardest to track; Her bond with Her islands intense enough for any disturbance to draw Her attention. Sometimes, what followed was a Teleport across the globe—a display of psychic power obscene enough to glass the sterile sand all around her—followed by swift death of whatever fool that thought it wise to disturb the cursed land. But only sometimes.

Bloom, on the other hand, remained unaccounted for. Year after year, decade after decade, all spent scouring the shores of the surrounding continents in search of Him, with nothing to show for it. The dragon's best guess was that He was terrorizing the depths of the ocean, a place not even she could reach.

Valor's fate was the most violent one, as befit Him. Locked into an unending, fiery rage, His movement throughout the globe used to be as unpredictable as the lightning itself. One day, He would circle the same spot in the middle of the ocean; another, he would race straight towards the nearest coastal settlement before blasting it into shreds and hunting down everyone trying to escape.

Golden Sky averting that fate—and containing what remained of Valor—made the Windrider pay attention to them.

According to their boastful legends, their mine was sacred, blessed with unending ore, with their city having grown around it. The truth, to the best of the dragon's knowledge, was... less glamorous, but broadly the same. There was a scar in reality going through those caverns, forever changing and renewing them—and forever trapping any soul unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Mining was a crucial job, relegated to prisoners and vagrants; their mummified remains doomed to be one-day discovered in a 'new' tunnel of this Mysterious Dungeon the Golden Sky viewed as hallowed.

Realizing they could not fight against the husk of a deity, the rulers of Golden Sky staked everything on their sacred mine. Valor was lured there, body after body, until He was far enough in for the unending caves to trap Him. It was a costly, nigh-pyrrhic victory, costing thousands upon thousands of lives, as well as their main supply of raw ore.

And if that was where their involvement ended, the Windrider might have even found them respectable.

There have been talks—still rumors, at this point—of tapping into the trapped deity's unending wrath and His raw electric power. The mere thought of one of her mentors being reduced to a pile of charcoal in a furnace disgusted her. She knew her opinion wouldn't amount to anything, though.

After all, she was just like Him—a ghost of an age long past, thrashing aimlessly in a world that was no longer her home.

...

...

Onward.



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
Chapter 34: Charity New


Chapter 34: Charity



For once, Sue woke up early enough for everyone else to still be asleep, even despite the creeping dawn. It took her a few minutes of staring upwards in a daze to finally recall what had happened in her dream before she was suddenly pulled out of it. The gash in her recent memories where the events that transpired should've been didn't reassure her any. Once she'd pieced it together, though, she just sighed and got comfortable on her bedding.

Seems Night Father was right, after all.

That answered one mystery, but so many others remained. Mysteries that not even having the identity, fingerprints, and mugshot of the responsible deity would have explained, but which still burned her psyche to think about. Why was she the one thrust into this world? Why was she being taunted with her memories being kept from her, over and over again? The questions hurt to think about, no less so even after Night Father's recent assistance, but... Sue didn't let them get to her. Not this time.

Yes, she wanted to know the answers and hoped she'd get them one day, but they didn't matter anywhere near as much as what she had right beside her. She carefully reached to stroke Joy's maw with one hand as the other brushed its fingers against the canvas of Twinkle's bag. No matter the reason for her god-given task, no matter their excuse for putting her here, in this dangerous world where she'd brushed against death more in days than she had in years back on Earth, she was here now; she had people, big and small, caring for her. And she cared for them in return.

As far as she was concerned, this was her actual mission here, her grand goal in this world. To help these two lil' oddballs feel loved and cared for, to make positive change around her wherever she could, maybe to even help Moonview and Newmoon mend some of their scars—not because an asshole god told her so, but because she wanted to help, however she could.

All that and more could come later this morning, though.

Hopefully Solstice won't mind if I snooze a bit...


A few hours later, the first part of Sue that awoke from her nap was her nose. The thick, peppery smell of yesterday's breakfast filled the air once more, now somehow even more intense. Her ears chimed in shortly after, noticing the distant murmur of a well-awake town, the quiet crackling of flames, and diligent scraping of a wooden spoon as it stirred the pot's contents. All those would've been lovely on their own, but occasional interjections from a shrill, harsh, girly voice, responded to by a smoother, older, more sing-song voice only made the scene incomparably more pleasant.

Triply so once the latter voice had noticed Sue having woken up, and extended the tent's telepathic translation to her.

"Wh-wh-what... umm, red a-and yellow?" Joy asked, uncertain.

"Red and yellow?" Solstice responded, unsure. There was faint shuffling in response, quickly interrupted by the Mayor cautioning "Careful Joy, the pot is very hot. Here, let me levitate some of the chopped veggies—"

"Th-this one!"

"Ah! That's a carrot, sweetie. They're really sweet, and orange," the older Forest Guardian explained.

Joy tried her best to pronounce the sounds she'd heard. "Orh-rgh-oooorhhha—"

"Oooooorange," Solstice repeated, an audible smile in her voice.

"Orgh—orhange?"

"You got it, Joy! Their color is orange, between red and yellow. Any other veggies you wanna know more about?"

*yaaaaaaaaaawnnnn—*

Sue didn't realize the sound came from her until she felt the focus of the rest of the room home in on her, the little toothy girl included. A smile crept on her face as she heard Joy get up from her seat and walk closer. Before long, her little hands were clumsily patting against her chin to catch her attention. At first slowly, then increasingly faster as Sue's smile grew without her responding.

"Joy, I think Sue still wants to rest some—"

"No no, I'm okay, I'm okay," Sue giggled, finally prying her eyes open and squinting at the metal child beside her. "Good morning Joy, good morning Solstice." Joy responded with a shrill, excited squeak before kneeling and pulling all she could reach of the sleeping Forest Guardian into her arms. Sue couldn't resist laughing in response as she held the girl close and sat up. A quick check determined Twinkle to still be asleep, snuggled up to her torso. "Someone's really excited to see me," she smiled.

"Goo-ood mh-mhorning!" Joy responded, excited about having pronounced the words right—and about her guardian being awake, of course.

Once Sue had finished rubbing the sand out of her eyes, she slid to the edge of her bed and sat the girl comfortably on her lap. As if on autopilot, one hand let itself be gripped by the tip of her maw as the other carefully pet Joy's front head, the little one's relaxation downright palpable for her psychic senses. Twinkle themselves was creeping closer to awareness after Sue had sat up, but wasn't there yet—giving her a perfect opportunity to check in on Solstice.

Their eyes met each other as they put on their most confident smiles, neither as unerringly upbeat as they would've wanted. And that was okay. They had a lot to talk about later today, and Sue was glad to not sense much hesitation in the older Forest Guardian at the thought of having that important conversation. Either way, that was for then, and now they were here; they were feeling okay, and more than anything else, they were glad to see each other.

"How was your rest, Sue?" her mentor asked, redirecting her gaze down at the pot before her.

I could go on and on about that, but something tells me the last thing Solstice wants to hear right now is the melodrama of gods squabbling with one another for unknown reasons.

Sue stretched in her seat, and Joy followed in tow, mimicking her motions. "Had quite a dream and woke up early, but overall I'm quite good. Whattcha making?"

"Thickening yesterday's leftovers, adding some spices to soften the flavor, and we'll be having them with some bread," Solstice explained, nudging Sue's attention to a small loaf of what looked like cornbread. "Gotta make the most out of it, ha."

As spicy as her last breakfast was, Sue most definitely didn't mind having some more of it. She absentmindedly nodded at her mentor's explanation, before looking down at Twinkle's gradually creeping tentacles wrapping around her and smiling widely. "Hello there, Twinkle. I hope you slept well." Taking care not to disturb them too much, she unwrapped the knot that kept them attached to her torso—and her skin most definitely appreciated it.

The little ghost wasn't as talkative as Joy, but they didn't lack in ways of expressing their affection and gratitude for their guardian's wishes—if at the cost of some of the affection going the metal girl's way. They reached up to the hand that was currently dispensing affection toward Joy's front head, and pulled on it with all their might, managing to nudge it just enough to lower it down between themselves and the other little one. At last, their reward, Sue's hand, theirs to wrap themselves around. And Joy's to pet in return, letting her have her revenge.

A revenge that Sue couldn't get enough of—and probably never would.

"Goodness, I'm so happy to have you two," Sue sighed dreamily. The little ones were happy, too, expressing that by holding her hand even tighter. Sweet as the sight was, though, the younger Forest Guardian knew full well today would have a lot more in store than just observing the tykes' antics, even excluding the difficult discussion she was hoping to have. "So, how's the aid to Newmoon looking?" she asked. "Lilly mentioned it yesterday, and I was curious."

To her relief, Solstice didn't seem taken aback at all, maintaining her calm as she switched to telepathy and explained. "^The current plans are to wrap our preparations in the morning, and head out around noon. If I were to hazard a guess, all the supplies are already individually prepared. It's just a matter of figuring out the transport for them all, and prioritizing what we take.^"

Only good news, just the balm Sue's mind needed. "That's great news! Is transport gonna be the bottleneck?"

"^Potentially, yes,^" Solstice answered, chewing through the question in her head. "^Thankfully, I reckon we have enough strong, eager hands to carry everything we'd want to there—can't imagine having to leave anything behind for a future round of aid.^"

The Mayor stirred the pot some more once she'd answered Sue's question, only to stop herself at realizing she'd forgotten something. "^Aside from stone and lumber. We have a few people strong enough to carry it, but it might still be a better idea to carry only a minimal amount of them this first time. Can't imagine anyone in Newmoon having much need to build much right now—^" she stopped herself, wincing at having made yet another assumption. "^Actually, best to just ask what they'll need in the immediate future once we arrive.^"

That sounded reasonable as far as Sue went, and her mentor catching herself brought a tiny, but well-meaning smirk to her face. Though, there remained one part of the entire aid undertaking that she was woefully uncertain about, selfish as it was—herself. She hoped it wouldn't be an issue if she tagged along, but the multi-hour walk from Moonview to Newmoon would pose a challenge even if she were to just walk along them. And after her mentor having discouraged Lilly's younger sister from doing just that yesterday, Sue doubted her odds would be much better.

Still, no way but to ask. Guess I'll never stop learning that lesson the hard way, will I?

"Actually, I had a question. Would it be alright if I tagged along with you all?" Sue asked. Her true motives might have been... less than perfectly innocent, what with Lilly also helping in the effort, but she hoped Solstice wouldn't be able to see through them so easily.

Solstice sharply inhaled through her nose in amusement. "^Yes, of course, Sue, why not? Just would have to ask someone to look after Joy and Twinkle. Sundance already agreed to look after Comet, and I don't think she'll say no to your little duo. Besides, if she's gonna be making a costume for Twinkle, then having them there would help immensely with that, no doubt.^"

Sue wasn't as wholeheartedly convinced, what with Joy's frightened reaction yesterday, but she hoped that clearer communication with the two tykes would prevent another scare like that. Which... was something she could do right now, even. "Joy, Twinkle?" she asked, shaking her clung-to hand. The metal girl looked up at her in curiosity and the bagful of ghost extended their tentacles up towards her, as if asking to be picked up. Which she then did moments after, without even having to think about it. "So, me and Solstice will be going on a long walk, and I won't be here for most of the day. Is it okay if Sundance looks after you two today? It's the nice fox lady you met yesterday."

The 'fox lady' quantifier explained exactly nothing on its own, while perking up Solstice's attention. Thankfully, the older Forest Guardian knew exactly how to help, mentally nudging the little ones to bring their attention to the memories of being looked after by the fiery vixen. Twinkle was immediately happy at the idea, but Joy was less so, and both psychics noticed. Sue wasted no time thinking of something to say to help the girl overcome the unpleasant situation yesterday—but, before she knew it, she didn't have to. Joy mimicked what she'd seen adults do and nodded firmly, capping off her response with a stuttered, "Y-y-yes."

Sue was so, so proud.

With both the little ones once more snuggled up to her, the resulting emotional warmth was enough to nudge the final remaining member of their impromptu household from his rest. Babbling filled the tent as Comet came to, shuffling around his cot before scrambling to his feet and peeking out through the thin bars on its sides. He looked at his mom, let out a happy squeak, and fell back down into a sitting position from the sheer excitement—before standing up again, eager to get out.

And Solstice soon delivered, sitting him down on her lap as he yawned and struggled against wanting to doze back off. The scene was adorable enough to bring the dumbest and widest of smiles to Sue's face. It almost made her forget about the unanswered question in the room, one that kept her from being fully comfortable with her mentor's reassurance—but only, almost. "What about my limp, though? Won't I lag behind everyone else and slow down the entire convoy?" she asked, uncertain whether the word 'convoy' was ideal but not knowing how else to phrase it.

The Mayor laughed quietly before giving her a very knowing look. "^Something tells me that, even in that worst-case scenario, Lilly will carry you there in her own arms.^"

Before Sue knew it, her entire face was enveloped in a burning blush at having been seen through so easily. She looked away from her mentor as she reined her embarrassment in, putting in her utmost effort to prevent it from bleeding into insecurity or discomfort. Which paid off, letting her sigh happily and answer without shame, "Y-yeah, that's basically what would happen if I were to guess. She—she told me she was coming yesterday..."

For once, Solstice didn't have it in her to express amusement at her pupil's mood, however well-intentioned. Instead, she just beamed at her, glad beyond words—physical and mental alike—that she and Lilly were hitting it off so well. "^Perfect, then! Besides, I doubt there are many people Newmoon would appreciate seeing more than you, even if just to have that confirmation that you're doing okay after what Juniper did.^"

That angle also tracked, yes. Sue was glad that the older Forest Guardian didn't bring up the people of Newmoon being grateful to her for 'saving' them—even if that would happen, she didn't want to fantasize about it. Especially with her having been but one voice of many opposing Root, even if hers was the one to break through his torrent of hateful rhetoric. She didn't want to be a hero.

She just wanted everyone to be alright.

"^Either way, that'll be then. And now, breakfast everyone!^" Solstice cheerfully exclaimed, before pouring everyone their portions of the now much thicker stew—finally enough to be worthy of that label. This time, Twinkle didn't mind staying on the sides, leaning against their guardian while watching the older Forest Guardian cut slices from the loaf she'd brought with herself and hand them out.

Once more, Comet had to be helped with his portion, babbling as he watched his mom dip his slice into the thick stew before presenting it for him to nibble at. Sue tried to pretend she immediately understood how the meal was supposed to be eaten instead of copying it from the lil' Moon Child. The stew was thicker and much less spicy this time, its bite replaced with a smoky sweetness that lent itself very well for being used as a de facto dip for the bread.

The lil' ghost was okay with staying on the sides, but they were still curious—and Sue answered their curiosity, breaking away a small piece of dry cornbread for them to taste. To hers and Solstice's surprise, Twinkle reacted much better to the treat than the last time, pulling it into the void inside their bag where it was presumably eaten. Or vaporized. Or spirited away. Or thrown into another dimension. It didn't matter; they liked it all the same. They only ended up asking for a couple more pieces before stopping, anyway. Maybe their magical, ghostly stomach was small despite its weirdness?

Questions for someone else to answer, while Sue reaped its spoils—feeling a full, drowsy hauntling flatten themselves on her lap, their amorphous body entirely relaxed.

Behold, a portable pancake ghost child.

It didn't take long for others to get through their portions. After being thickened, there was only enough stew left for maybe two full bowls. The leftovers got cleaned meticulously, with Sue and Solstice going through almost a third of the loaf as they methodically mopped up the remaining stew. It wasn't a substitute for washing, of course, but it was best that they got to taste the most concentrated, slightly burned parts of the stew and not the dirt outside.

Once the pot was spotless and Sue felt like she was more cornbread than Forest Guardian by mass, it was time to head out. Her mentor was about to ask her to help carry Comet to their mutual vixen friend before stopping at the last moment—no, not right now. Not with her blasted family around. The thought was accompanied by a strong chill going through the older psychic, strong enough to spread to her pupil and offspring. Even that gloom was nothing for Comet's antics, though, with the Moon Child reacting to his mom's shaking by trying to mirror it, showing the world his best dance moves as he wiggled in place and waved his lil' arms.

Wouldn't be winning any competitions, but it won the hearts of everyone around, and that's all that mattered.


To her relief, Solstice didn't end up accompanying Sue outside for long. Now that the breakfast was over, it was very much work time for her—there were some details to be finalized and distributions of resources they ought to bring to be settled on. Of course, Sue couldn't be asked to bring the three little ones to Sundance's by herself, not after yesterday, which meant asking someone to walk with her and help out if needed.

And there was just the perfect pair of people nearby to help the younger Forest Guardian with that task. "^Patina!^" Solstice called out, stopping the tall, fiery psychic mid-step. The Mayor dashed up to her and her parent, with Sue trailing close behind. "^Would you mind escorting Sue and the kids over to Sundance?^"

Patina herself was somewhat taken aback, but more so at the randomness of the task as opposed to anything else. She turned towards the Forest Guardians, the contents of the thick bags she was holding filling the air with dry rustling. "^Don't mind doin' that, no worries. Any reason for that, though? Doubt I make the best guardian, ha!^" she answered, her voice crackling and noisy.

Solstice sighed. "^My family is unfortunately around, and I'm worried they'll try something with Comet.^" The lil' Moon Child was oblivious to the topic of the conversation, but noticed the downturn in his mom's mood all the same, holding her closer.

"^Ah, so that's who these ne'er-do-wells were,^" Patina sneered, remembering the unsettling interaction from the previous day. "^Caught them creepin' on me yesterday, had no idea what their deal was since they looked similar to ya. Sure, I'll help y'all out! Don't have a free 'and right now, and I ain't sure about psychicing lil' Comet here—^"

"D-don't worry, I can carry him," Sue offered, taking the tyke from his mom's arms.

"^I could have assisted,^" Celestica added, to everyone's amusement. Both at their comment, and at Comet's reaction to hearing a different voice, his confused squeak lifting everyone's spirits.

"^Ya sure ya wouldn't drop him, Celly?^" Patina chuckled, her voice confusing Comet even more as she turned towards Solstice. "^But but but, getting ahead of mahself—we'll figure it out Solly, don't let us keep ya waitin'!^"

The Mayor appreciated the clarification greatly, giving the paired psychics a quick, but genuine bow before turning deeper into Moonview and breaking into a brisk march. The lil' Moon Child waved and babbled towards her as she left, thankfully not minding a lack of response—he had a different mystery on his mind. He turned towards Patina and Celestica, observing them intently as the group resumed their march.

"^Your interest is highly amusing, Comet,^" the immobile psychic chimed in, bits of genuine amusement leaking through their gravely mental voice.

The fiery woman looked at the lil' Forest Guardian in amusement. "^Guess he's gettin' tripped by us bein' so close.^"

"^No different from everyone else, then.^"

"^Hell of a lot more cuter, though!^"

"^I concur.^"

Not even Joy could resist the building giggles that spread through the group watching Comet's reaction to that exchange, his little head growing dizzy from looking up and down. It provided a much-needed reprieve from the tension filling the air, both the more personal sort referencing Solstice's relatives, and the general unrest from everyone being busy gathering resources for Newmoon.

And now that Sue's mind had steered towards said topic, she couldn't help but notice the bags in Patina's hands. "Are the bags in your hands intended for Newmoon?" she asked, perking her de facto guardians up.

An immediate affirmation, a cheerful one at that. "^Yep! Bringing some of the charcoal stockpiles I had piling up to the gatherin' spot, gonna be helping carry stuff too. Bit of a walk, but I sure could use my legs gettin' stretched from time to time. Would do me good, especially nowadays. And—gonna try lending them a hand in building their own charcoal pit, comes in handy often. If there's time, of course.^"

"^And if they're interested,^" Celestica added.

"^Yep yep! Also worth keepin' in mind. The last thing I wanna do is step on some more toes on Moonview's behalf.^"

Celestica's greenish plates lit up as their eye looked at Patina's head. "^Airing your lungs from all the fumes that had built up in them will certainly help,^" they deadpanned.

Patina rolled her eyes. "^Ya sayin' it like I got sulfur crystals growin' in there.^"

"^Are you insisting you do not?^"

"^I sure hope I do! Would be more sulfur than I can get my hands on right now, could do a lot of stuff with it, keep on looking into hair dyes and such—oh.^" The fiery woman stopped, reminding herself of her mishap from a couple of days ago. "^Sorry for the bleachin' again, Sue,^" she nervously apologized.

With everything that had happened within the past couple of days—and the obvious difficulty in even seeing how she looked without help—Sue had all but forgotten about the mishap with Patina's attempts to straighten her hair. Even the miserable burning sensation, as overwhelming as it was at the time, was little more than a footnote in her recent memories. The discoloration sure wouldn't help her look any more normal, but considering much of her reference for what passed as normal among Forest Guardians was Solstice's family, she was perfectly fine not looking normal. There was also that one Forest Guardian she could recall seeing in a... vision after Juniper's attack, but their details grew hazier by the day.

Ultimately, nobody else was having an issue with how her hair looked, so why would she?

"Don't worry Patina, it's all good," Sue smiled weakly. "Guess my hair's just designed to remain a mess forever, hah."

"^Sure wouldn't mind going toe to toe against Destiny Itself with the next straightener I fix up!^" Patina boasted.

Sue's eye twitched. "I don't think that'll be necessary, promise!"

"^Well, I'll be darned...^" Patina mumbled in the least convincingly upset way possible.

"^Considering the explosiveness of some of your recent experiments, that is not out of consideration indeed. With regards to your earlier question, Sue. Will you be heading to Newmoon as well?^" Celestica asked.

"^Ya should! And, before I forget—^"

Celestica's plates shifted, cutting their daughter off. "^I reckon Sue has already heard plenty of thanks for her role in putting Root in his place.^"

"^Not like one more woulda hurt her anyway, then~.^"

"^Said outcome cannot be wholly discounted.^"

I used to be a village mess like you, until I took a 'thank you' to the knee.

The mental image forced a chuckle or two past Sue's lips, livening up the little psychic in her arms, as well as the lil' ghost. She didn't have the most flexibility with both her arms occupied by Comet, but she still tried to dispense Twinkle whatever affection she could at the moment. "Y-yeah, I'll try to come too."

Patina radiated satisfaction. "^Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Wouldn't have thought you were already convinced to head there—guess standing up to Root really got to ya, eh?^"

Sue chuckled before blushing as she thought about the actual reasons for her decision. "...among other things, yes." The merged psychics' curiosity was downright palpable, leaving the younger Forest Guardian squirming slightly until finally looking up and spotting their destination. "Seems we're almost at Sundance's! Thanks for help Patina, Celestica, I'll—I'll take it from here."

The fire woman shot her a very smug, very knowing look. "^Uh-huuuuh. Well, either way, take care Sue, see ya in a bit!^"

"^Farewell for the time being.^"

"T-take care, you two," Sue responded nervously and turned the corner towards the steps to Sundance's dwelling. Sure, her real motivation wasn't exactly a secret, but she had hoped it would've been at least slightly harder to piece together.

...

Then again, she wasn't sure whether Patina had actually figured out the connection between her and Lilly and was shooting her that look because of it. She could've very well been bluffing, or had come up with some other reason that sounded convincing but was actually incorrect. It was a more comforting explanation, if nothing else.

...

I'm worrying way too much about this, aren't I?

With that predictable and yet somewhat disappointing realization and the accompanying sigh, Sue had finally arrived at her mentor's doorstep. Actually climbing up was more of a challenge than she'd imagined—not because Twinkle and Comet were extraordinarily heavy, but because Joy was so small she could barely scale one step at a time, with the staircase ahead coming off as more of an extreme obstacle course. Thankfully, the help arrived soon after.

Spark woofed an excited greeting as she ran down the stairs, interspersing it with one or two whimpers. To Sue's relief, the moment the kit spotted the struggling metal girl, she ran down and began to assist her with the grueling climb. Even with the help, conquering all the steps took a while for Joy, but it was okay. She just needed a hand, much like everyone else from time to time. Sue had no idea whether the internal reassurance that came with that framing would last for long, but it sure made her feel much warmer as she stepped into Sundance's dwelling.

"Good morning, Sue," the older vixen woofed, stretching her body afterwards. She still opted to lie on the floor, but it was clear now that said choice wasn't because of that being the only pose she could maintain, but because of it just being the most comfortable. Before her, laid several sketches of Twinkle's outfit Sue didn't spot yesterday, including one depicting the broad shape of each individual piece of fabric they would need for it. Just needed the little ghost themselves to act as a model.

Sue smiled weakly, holding the lil' ghost closer to herself before lowering them and Comet to the floor. "Hey, Sundance. I hope you don't mind looking after Joy and Twinkle too—"

"Not at all, worry not," Sundance reassured with a smile.

Sue was still somewhat unconvinced, watching Spark help Joy make it through the final few steps with a bit of worry. "Even after yesterday?"

"Even after yesterday. Though clarifying that you're leaving for a few hours would be ideal to prevent them from getting frightened again." The words weren't meant as a jab, and it took Sue all the mental strength she had to not take them as such. She didn't have to feel bad just because of having made an understandable omission in the heat of the moment—she just had to try avoiding it next time.

She could do this, and if their responses back at Solstice's tent were any sign, Joy and Twinkle could do this, too. "Yep. Let's get that done now, then," Sue responded with determination in her voice, offering both the little ones a hand. The latter took it right away, still easing out after the sudden change of surroundings, and the former edashed towards it as soon as she'd made it past the door frame, panting with her entire tiny body.

Sue might've resisted scooping them both in a hug there and then, but that didn't extend to giving them both some pets and ruffles.

"Joy, Twinkle?" she spoke up, catching their attention and making sure Sundance's translation aid had encompassed them all. "Like I said earlier, I'll be heading out for now, and I'll be back in a few hours. Sundance will be keeping you all company until then." So far, so good—the little ones seemed to have heard her, and haven't reacted negatively, in line with their breakfast chat. "Goodbye, see you later!"

And then, she took a couple steps towards the door.

"N-noooooooo!" Joy squealed, making Sue freeze mid-step as she ran over and hugged her leg. Her distress was hard to ignore, very real despite its sudden appearance. Twinkle wasn't faring much better, though in their case, fear manifested as freezing in place—which they did, shaking weakly.

Thank Duck we had breakfast and headed out early.

Sue had expected that reaction, though not really so suddenly at the very end. Annoying, especially with her having already felt relieved that it all went without a hitch, but better now than in two hours when she wouldn't be here to help calm them down. She didn't let it get to her, facing the little girl and the equally tiny ghost with a smile as she carefully sat down on the floor beside them, letting them scramble onto her lap.

Those bony hips most definitely weren't built to sit on hard stone, but it could wait, too. "I'm here, I'm here," Sue reassured, stroking the backs of both Twinkle and Joy as they clung to her torso. "What's wrong?" she then asked, less to find out and more so to help them express it in their own words.

"S-s-scared..." the metal girl mumbled. She struggled against her own airways and voice for a second, but eventually continued, "P-p-please not leave..."

Twinkle's only response was a couple of drawn-out whimpers, the ghost too unnerved to put together even clear thoughts for Sundance to translate. It was unfortunate, but equally understandable—same with Joy's fear. Sue had a couple ideas of how to respond to it, but settled on trying to be as descriptive as she could. "Joy, the place I'll be going to is very far away. The walk will be very long, too long for you two. You'd get really tired, and probably really scared too. I'll be back later today to pick you both up, and until then, Sundance and Spark will be watching over—"

"Oh, I'm going to Newmoon t-too!" Spark cut in, wincing as she laid down before Sue's lap. "I wanna tell—*ow*—tell Pollux the good news myself!"

"Awww, that's sweet of you, Sparkie. But—in that case, just Sundance will be watching over you," Sue corrected herself.

The adult fox in question lifted a wooden bowl in the air, giving it a little shake. "I grabbed us snacks ahead of time, too."

"See?" Sue beamed. "She'll keep you safe, you'll have snacks, and you'll be able to help Sundance with making a costume for Twinkle? Isn't that exciting?" She kept a close watch over the moods of the two kids, feeling the changes her words elicited in them. Most of what she'd just said had little impact, until the very end, where the premise of helping the baggy ghost with their outfit appealed to Joy in particular.

Ultimately, she'd need to be more direct. "I'm not abandoning you," Sue whispered, holding the tykes closer. "I love you both so much. I apologize for yesterday and leaving you both so suddenly for a while, and I don't want that to happen again. I care for you two so very much, and I always will."

The aid of Sundance's translation helped Sue's words have their desired effect—getting the two kids thinking. They remained huddled to her as they chewed through the words, their tension slowly evaporating with every deep breath. Surprisingly, it was Twinkle to try "speaking up" first, with Sundance finally making enough sense of their thoughts to put them to words. "Safe...?"

Sue smiled as wide as her Forest Guardian face would allow her to. "Yep! You're all safe here, and nobody will hurt you here." It had some impact, but was far from a magic bullet. She was perfectly content sitting here for as long as she had to, anything to make these two tiny magical creatures she felt much closer to than she could admit to herself better.

Joy was next to put her thoughts to words. She looked up at her guardian from her lap and carefully grabbed her hand to wrap her tiny arms around. "B-b-back later?" she half-mumbled, half-squeaked out.

Her guardian answered with firm, calm nods. "Yes, I'll be back in a few hours, before it gets dark."

An immediate reassurance, one that soothed Sue's heart as much as it did Joy's. The girl wasn't done yet, though. "N-n-n-not angry?"

Oh, sweetie...

Sue lifted Joy closer to her chest, holding her as firmly as her noodly arms would allow. "I'm not angry at you, Joy, I promise. I'm not angry at either of you. I'm not leaving you here because I dislike you, but because I don't want you to get scared or tired. How about—maybe in a while, once things get calmer, we can go there together? Then you'll get to see where I'll be going to today."

The toothy girl needed little convincing to appreciate that idea, straightening out as she was lowered onto Sue's lap. She stood up, looked up at her guardian, and pulled her into as big of a hug as she could manage—with both her arms and her maw, turning it so that its flat side curved slightly along Sue's back. Not something the Forest Guardian had ever seen her do before, but no less adorable because of it. Sue beamed as she planted a brief smooch on Joy's forehead, Twinkle holding her free hand close all the while. "Are you feeling better, Joy?"

"Y-y-yeah!" the girl chirped, radiating more confidence than Sue had ever felt from her. As if to make her guardian feel even prouder, she then turned towards Twinkle and lifted them into a clumsy, earnest hug too, trying to pass on the reassurance that had bloomed inside her. It was precious, and it left Sue feeling even happier at the aftermath of—

"T-t-twinkle! We s-safe. M-mom back later!"

...

...

Sue froze mid-pet at the word, her mind suddenly going blank. Every smile, every warm, proud sensation, every shred of relief, all of them immediately overshadowed by this single, off-the-cuff word choice. Something Joy had no reason to pretend, something that Sue had spent days preventing from taking root in her psyche. It felt wonderful beyond words to imagine, but that was exactly the reason she couldn't—because she didn't want to lie to herself, to pretend the tykes thought of her this close when she had no reason to assume that, only for the reality to inevitably disappoint her.

Except, this time, it didn't.

Her expression shifted and squirmed as it valiantly held back the moisture building in her eyes from spilling down her face. She wrapped her arms tight around the little ones, holding them closer than she ever had before. Her hands held their little hands and even littler ghostly tentacles, rubbing against them with her fingers. They—they really thought of her as her mom, at least Joy did, which would make them her, her—

My children.

And suddenly, Sue realized it was her who now had a very hard time letting go of the two, the thought making her break into mute, slightly teary laughter. She wasn't alone in that, either, with even a brief glance further into the room spotting Sundance's amused, proud expression on full display, capped off with a wink.

"^Need a moment?^" the vixen whispered covertly.

Her pupil took a deep breath and nodded in return, before slowly unclenching herself from around the tykes. They got the cue to scramble off her lap soon after—though not before she snuck one more smooch on both their foreheads, anything to make them feel half as warm and loved as she was feeling right now. Her body shook as she stood back up and stretched, the aching in her lower half overshadowed by the happiness lighting up her mind. "I-I love you both so much. B-bye bye, Joy, b-b-bye bye, Twinkle!"

She sensed the brief pangs of worry coming from—from her kids as they watched her walk through the door. Thankfully, said feelings couldn't withstand being subjected to seeing their mom's smile and energetic waving, the latter returned in kind soon after. Before Sue knew it, it was just her and Spark at the bottom of the staircase, leaving her feeling surprisingly empty. It only lasted for a while, but it was still a palpable shift—

*woof, woof—whimper—woof?*

Right, linking time. Getting a grip on herself again, Sue went through the motions of constructing a connection between herself and the lil' fox, the action done faster than she could ever remember it happening. Another little bit of progress, as marginal as it was helpful. "S-sorry Sparkie, I-I didn't hear you there."

"No worry, Sue! Why crying, you?" Spark asked, her voice more confused than it was concerned.

Why was Sue crying this time, indeed. She giggled to herself as she got going, recreating the steps to where the path towards Newmoon began, assuming that's where the drop-off point for all the gathered resources would be. "W-well, Spark, I'm just happy that Joy and Twinkle care about me this much," she explained in rather reserved terms, nowhere near close enough to conveying the sheer warmth fluttering in her chest.

The lil' fox laughed. "Yeah, they really do! Joy told me yesterday that she really loved her mom, and when I asked who that was, she drew both you and Astra!"

Nope, not winning the battle with tears this time—

*growl, growl grumble*


The second set of animal sounds shot a freezing shiver down Sue and Spark's spines, the sheer emotional whiplash almost giving the former a headache. She wasn't sure who exactly it was right away, but the lil' fox's immediate terror helped fill in the gaps.

With the almost worst-case answer.

Any and all happiness had washed from Sue's face by the time she finished turning toward the source of the sound, finding him to be who she dreaded he was. The cream and dark purple badger stood a few good meters away from her, staring her down inquisitively. Contrary to the rage Sue had expected him to feel, however, Root didn't seem to be angry at all, certainly nowhere near as furious as he had gotten on that fateful evening. Instead, he was... intrigued, observing her closely as he awaited a response to his words. That's not to say there were no negative feelings coiled up inside his mind either—annoyed frustration, cold resentment, both of them present if masked under the pretense of manners.

He was standing on the side of a busy intersection, making it especially unlikely he would try to attack her with so many witnesses. She had no idea whatsoever what he wanted, but whatever it was, she would endure—she'd already overpowered him once at his worst; she could absolutely do it again. Perhaps she could even try to dig into him some.

Staring fiercely at Root, Sue extended a second link towards him, the gesturing of her arms and fingers raising his eyebrow. She neither noticed nor cared about what he thought of that, her attention instead distracted by Spark's bright, unpleasant fear emanating from right behind her.

Don't worry Sparkie, I'll take care of him.

"Yes?" Sue spoke up towards Root, breathing heavily as she kept her expression neutral.

"Now hear, Moon-chosen?" the badger replied.

"Yes, I can hear you. What do you want, Root?"

Her bluntness took him aback somewhat, slipping a few drops of annoyance into his thoughts and an ever-so-slight scowl into his expression, but he tried not to let it get into his voice. "Perfect. Curious about you, I," he began, eying out every odd thing about her. Her posture, her mannerisms, her perpetually unkempt hair, even the way she did her psychics—none of them befitting the grace her kin were meant to embody, none of them normal. "Curious about reasons, yours. Why disrespect Pale Lady desire, Moon-chosen? Why give night kin not deserved mercy, you?"

Sue narrowed her eyes. He was trying to dig into her reasoning, but why? To the best of her ability to figure out, the curiosity he was displaying was genuine, but if there was anyone in the entire Moonview who she wouldn't associate with genuine interest in getting to know others better, it was the bipedal, fiery badger. Perhaps that was an omission on her end. Perhaps...

...

Perhaps he was inspired by her having done that same thing to Willow the day before.

Sue didn't like either of the answers. Instead, she brushed that unknown aside and replied curtly, pushing past the racist overtones, "The 'mercy', as you call it, isn't somehow undeserved."

Root scoffed. "Magnanimous, you. Misguided, you. Charity virtuous, indeed. Experienced Moon-chosen charity, my kin. Must only give worthy, charity. Otherwise, squandered, waste."

The framing of her actions as some kind of magnanimous, patronizing good will annoyed Sue more than the bigoted thrust of the priest's words. She couldn't understand how he could look at the mess that was her and interpret anything she'd done as 'magnanimous' with a straight face. Ultimately, it didn't matter either way—especially with the detail he'd snuck in there catching her attention instead. "The Forest Guardians have helped your kin in the past?"

It was just the question the badger had been waiting for. His body language straightened out as his smile turned marginally more genuine, with his short arms splaying wide. "Utmost certainty. By Moon-chosen helped, lowly us, lowly me. Many Moons past, attacked were we. Pushed us from land, lesser kin. Filthy kin. Standing water kin, swamp and mud kin. Beneath most, us even."

The racial categorization inherent to Root's every word wasn't any more pleasant to listen to for the umpteenth time, even with Sue doing her best effort in focusing past those unsightly descriptors and on the thrust of the priest's words. Where he kept categorizing and separating his people from their attackers, Sue only drew parallels—but it wasn't time for them yet. "Why did they attack you?" she asked.

"Accusations foolish of arson. Accusations forest fire. Unthinkable, lesser mud kin accuse. More pure than earth are flames, than mud. Accuse, no right had they, below us. Yielded we. Too many, them. Never stop attack they, never stop harass they. Attack they, kill they, never satisfy. Death uncountable, forced me this shape." He looked down at himself, his body shivering. "Many family death. Mate, death. Watch him after death, Pale Lady, beg I."

Sue was staring wide eyed as Root wove his tale. It was nothing like she expected, especially with—as far as she could sense—Root being entirely truthful in everything he'd said so far. However, he clearly wasn't done yet, and so she remained silent.

"After many day, help Moon-chosen. Swamp kin barbarism, stop Moon-chosen. Messenger Pale Lady, save us Moon-chosen charity. Lesson for us—Pale Lady our guardian. Moon-chosen, messengers Hers. That, Moon-chosen charity. Against lesser kin, protect. You, mercy night kin want. You, take away Moon-chosen charity, act."

The intended rhetorical slam-dunk would've been unlikely to make an impact on her even if it hadn't been mangled in translation, but it wasn't what Sue was focused on. She could only gawk at Root, trying to make sense of what he'd just said, make sense of his actions when taking what he'd been through into consideration, removed from the festering clothing of racialized language.

If she'd interpreted his words right, his people had experienced a genocide from whoever the 'swamp' and 'mud' kin were, before being saved by the Forest Guardian intervention. Root himself had lost family and even a partner, an enormity of loss few even in Newmoon could compare to. Sue had no idea how else to interpret his words; this had to have been what he was implying—

But it made no sense! How could this have been the case!? How could someone who has been through that be striving for nothing more than to inflict that same horror on others!? There has to have been something she wasn't seeing, something she'd maybe misinterpreted; her brain refused to comprehend the picture being painted before her.

She just had to find out what it was. "What—what makes the situation you're putting the night kin through any different from what your own people have experienced!?"

A great question. A terrible question. Root snarled at her words, offense filling his entire body at the gall of his kin being compared to night kin. For the first time since this accursed conversation had begun, Sue felt him get genuinely angry, the purplish flames sprouting from around his neck pushing her and Spark a couple steps back. "How dare insult such!? Cannot compare kin me, kin flames and guidance, and night kin. Hoped you smarter, I. Smart to know, not able compare these. Cannot compare—night kin danger. Real danger. Damned filth, Pale Lady cursed, lowest, lowest, lowest. Evil in flesh."

A part of Sue wanted to scoff at the obvious double standard, but at that point, she'd be shooting fish in a barrel with a howitzer. Root knew this was a double standard; he actively cherished and underlined that fact; he clearly didn't care about it in the vacuum. For a second, Sue considered asking him about how he would've reacted if she had been a night kin, before disregarding that idea—he would've probably responded very similarly.

*Would've been a good one to bring up against Willow yesterday though, darn.*

There was no point in arguing what kin did or didn't deserve help, because the way Root saw it, that fact was dictated by which kin were 'above' or 'below' each other on some abstract hierarchy he kept alluding to. The only way forward was to attack that very assumption, not to argue where anyone belonged on said hierarchy, but to reject it entirely. At least, that's how Sue saw it. She couldn't deny not having given it much thought back on Earth, not least of all because there she was also on top of almost all such hierarchies. Being a woman in a man's world sucked at times, but it would've sucked ten times more if she'd been a poor brown immigrant as opposed to a middle-class(ish) white native.

"I guess that's where we differ," Sue responded. "I don't see myself or other Forest Guardian as the 'chosen', or the night kin as being 'beneath' us."

To little surprise, her show-stopper of a line had no effect on its listener, only eliciting further disgust—and confusion. Intense, pitiful confusion at something so simple, as if the mere idea of such natural hierarchies not existing was literal insanity. Or, perhaps even more patronizingly, childish hope. "Hoped I, smarter you. Naive, foolish you. Throw away Pale Lady gift, chosen her. Instead, seek blame for inevitable damnation, you. Moon-chosen kin mission, cut rot. Destroy filth, destroy Pale Lady enemies. With prayer, with charity, with Her light, with violence, with flame—"

Root paused mid-rant, and Sue's heart skipped a beat. She watched him calm down in what seemed to be an eureka moment, the most unnerving one she'd ever seen. As if a switch had flipped, his righteous fury had dissipated into confidence, with his light smirk sending freezing fear down her body. He concluded shortly afterwards, "Hope I, one day accept natural reality, you," before turning around and walking off, his bipedal gait clumsy and forced.

For a while, Sue could only stand there, unnerved and pissed, terrified that him and Solanum and others were going to do something, but without any idea why. Worries circled around in her mind, louder and louder, threatening to plunge her deep into a panic attack—

"S-Sue?" Spark woofed, almost making the Forest Guardian jump on the spot. "Are you okay?"

No, she most definitely wasn't okay—but that wasn't something for the lil' fox to deal with. "I'm—I'm alright, just a bit frazzled from having to talk to him." She didn't even need to look down at the kit to know she wasn't entirely buying her reassurance, but there was little she could do about it on the spot.

"Well, he's gone now, anyway. Let's get going Sparkie; it's almost noon. People are waiting for us."



AUTHOR'S NOTE: A couple announcements!

One, the commission of the one and only Sundance is finally finished, by the immensely talented art_meow! You can see it in Chapter 10, close to the end.

Two, the artist I've commissioned the stickers you've seen in some of the past chapters deserves way more exposure than she's currenly getting! (and she criminally undervalues her art). Here's her carrd, here's her pricing, here's her patreon! Go commission her now! I'm not asking.



If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

Also check out my other main fic, From the Vast!
 
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